


Renaissance of Lilith

by Courtanie



Category: South Park
Genre: Abduction, Blood and Torture, M/M, Psychological Torture, Succubi & Incubi, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-04 00:24:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 120,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4119885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Courtanie/pseuds/Courtanie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damien took Kyle from his home long ago and made him into his personal toy. Now, he's about to let loose his captive to begin taking the souls of those he used to hold dear in the way that only a succubus can. Dyle/K2; only single scenes of other pairings tagged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“You’re mine, you know,” the voice cut him like a guillotine, echoing around the small, dank room in which he’d been imprisoned for God knew how long. Maybe months, years? He didn’t know anymore. There was nothing but darkness to keep him company, nothing but the oblivion of time to wrap around his frail form and keep him warm.  
  
Obediently came the response, “I know” through cracked, full lips. His voice wavered under the crushing weight of the stare he could feel bearing down onto a mess of scarlet curls, damp with sweat and frazzled from countless passes of his fingers through them in pure frustration. Pretty spring green eyes, muddled with the terms of his confinement fluttered up to meet those of a deep garnet hue. A sly grin passed over his keeper’s face, clawed fingers leaning down and scraping genially over his stark white neck. A sob caught in his throat, knowing that the time of resistance was gone and passed. The days of his rebellion had been crushed long ago when Damien had taken him from his home and brought him down into the swirling torments of Hell to keep as his own.  
  
He could only vaguely recall it; How he kicked and screamed and fought. How Stan and Kenny had been there, terrified and trying to pull him out of Damien’s crushing grip around his arm as he had yanked him off the safety of his bed. The words he let spill out in a calm macabre tone, “ _He belongs to me now_ ”, rang clear as day every moment that passed Kyle by. He could remember how Damien’s fingers had curled into his hair, pulling his head back violently and sinking sharp fangs down into his exposed throat, claiming him for himself. The pain had been insurmountable, the toxin of Damien’s power seeping down into him like a shadow; creeping through his blood in a blast of passionate scorches through his throbbing veins. It rendered him paralyzed, caught in Damien’s hold like a moth in a streetlamp. Spotted memories of Stan and Kenny’s voices yelling for him desperately as his captor sunk them down into a black void stuck to the back of his mind, plastered there as a cruel taunt. He couldn’t remember what was said, what his friends’ last words were to him as he was dragged against his will through the void of time and space.  
  
The puncture wounds throbbed in a dulled ache as the memory passed through, bright red and purple irritation standing out staunchly against his sickly white flesh. Kyle’s head lolled with Damien’s gentle caresses of his throat. The boy still had no idea of why the demon had set his sights on him, why he out of all the people in the world was chosen to be his prisoner. He had learned it was better not to ask the question, speaking out of turn resulted in horrible things for him.  
  
“Kyle,” his voice reappeared, placing one sharp nail under Kyle’s chin and tipping his head up to lock gazes with him. Damien couldn’t help but smile hungrily at the look of complete defeat overshadowing the once proud and beaming face. Kyle’s lips and teeth were partially opened, as though fumbling for a response; but he knew that the boy wouldn’t make a sound unless given permission. His glowing, dangerous eyes scanned over Kyle’s naked body, the way that his muscles were taut and pronounced as he kneeled on the floor in front of him, legs splayed out underneath him like a child’s. His arms hung limply in front of his narrow chest, a slight arch in his lithe back and shoulders as he slumped in the boy’s grip made his skin beam in the low lighting coming from the opened door leading to the outskirts of Hell. His sharp gaze bored into Kyle’s exhausted green eyes, lashes batting down now and again to kiss the soft, supple skin of his cheeks. “So beautiful,” he murmured.  
  
Kyle just continued staring at him, weakened and far past the point of fear of the man holding him. He was just tired, he wanted his nightmare to end, but he knew well enough that Damien had bound them for eternity, that there was no escape. A faint reminiscence of the ritual plagued him in his sleep, his mind picking up the heavy scent of blood sticking to him in a sickly fashion. Various creatures holding his arms and legs as Damien slowly, purposefully, cut away his clothing, tongue drawing over his fangs as inch by inch of the redhead was revealed to him. He recalled screaming and thrashing, then crying and begging as he realized that he couldn’t physically get away. He could feel Damien’s forked tongue licking over his pasty cheek, moaning in his ear softly like the tender kiss of a lover as he told him how he was going to take him, how he was going to be his. The tone of his voice scarred Kyle more than any of the various cuts he’d placed onto his body in the midst of his ritual, carving small words and incantations into his hips and arms, his inner thigh and hands.  
  
The words he spoke rebounded off of the fragile redhead who lied beneath him in a fit of panic; “ _I take this soul as my own, I lay my claim to him; For he who is pure and he who is full of life shall be mine. Let his body and mind fall to me, let his soul become bound with my own._ ” Damien’s voice was filled with adrenaline as the binding toppled past his lips, staring at Kyle with what the boy saw as nothing short of complete manic lust, a complete hold on his captive was taken with that gaze. It terrified him, the fear twisting in his stomach as more of his incantation boomed around the room. Blood from Damien’s hands were smeared onto his chest and stomach, marking him in a thick signature. The blood settled onto his skin, sinking and tattooing itself onto him in a violent spasm of hunger. Kyle could recall for the first time, feeling his soul. The way that it flittered around inside him in anxiety as Damien’s began to work its way into him. It didn’t take much before the demon’s powers completely overwhelmed him and Kyle could feel him sinking into the marrow of his bones. Every bit of him was violated as the demons surrounding him had relinquished their hold, watching him with famished eyes as he began to writhe. His eyes had become pinpoints, darting to and from as his body twisted and convulsed on its own accord atop a damp and cold stone slab. Damien’s soul engulfed his own, darkness seemed to spread along his mortal body as the hold became unbearably robust within his chest. He could remember with horrifying clarity the way that the air in the room bore down on him, how the thick coppery stench of blood soaked into his being, burning and fighting all the way down he went.  
  
Now, even after so much time, he could still feel the soul that was once his own, clinging to its last hopes of life. Trying so hard to remind him that he was still Kyle, not merely the son of Satan’s pet. However, the redhead had learned that even though keeping his humanity was the only thing that was letting him continue on without being a complete slave, it was futile. Human still or not, he _was_ a slave, he was a prisoner. Only brought to be Damien’s pretty little mouth and ass to use as he pleased. Damien’s lust was overpowering in every sense. The aura of his feelings followed him wherever he went, the air becoming sweltering and arid in the grasp of it all. He was violent and brutal with Kyle, scars and bruises lining the pale skin were proof enough of that. Kyle had found that it was only before he made his move, before he threw him down and did as he pleased with him that he treated him with a certain degree of “love”. Petting him, cooing him, telling him how beautiful and perfect he was. The kind words and soothing tone that Damien presented him with did little to calm his nerves, as he always knew within the next few moments, he was going to be shoved face-first onto the floor and Damien was going to be inside of him; Par for the course.  
  
Kyle’s lifeless eyes sparked with a hint of confusion as Damien knelt down in front of him, stroking his wispy bangs away from his face. He _never_ put himself at Kyle’s height, always wanting to be sure the mortal knew exactly where he belonged: Below him, groveling at his feet.  
  
“So beautiful,” he repeated. His face broke into a duplicitous smirk as he cupped Kyle’s chin once again, brushing his thumb along his cheek. “So much to be done with you,” he whispered, the words chilling Kyle’s bones. A shallow gulp receded down his throat and Damien watched the bobbing with curious, half-lidded eyes. He raised them back to the swampy olives staring back at him, fear and confusion beginning to flow freely amongst an otherwise unmoving face. “Tell me, Kyle,” he said slowly, watching with glee as each word seemed to send his prisoner’s face deeper into despondency. “What is it that a whore wants most?”  
  
Kyle blinked in utter loss at the question presented to him. So out of left field he found it that his mind nearly blanked over completely. Damien didn’t ask him things like this, only how he was and if he enjoyed his cock. That was their routine, breaking it was throwing Kyle even _further_ out of his comfort zone than he already had passed eons ago. He noticed Damien watching him expectantly and gulped, small pink tongue darting out to remoisten his lips. “M-money?” he guessed.  
  
The crooked grin that Damien grew was new to him, as though he found his answer to be funny. Smiles from him were reserved for taunting and pointing out Kyle’s weaknesses for him, they were malicious and dark. But this one seemed like it could have came from anyone. A gentleness over it sent a jolt of fear through the redhead’s spine, his entire body beginning to let out minute tremors against Damien’s firm hand.  
  
“Do not shake,” Damien ordered. “You are not in trouble.” Kyle locked himself up, stiffening his body and planting his hands on the floor below him, trying desperately to follow the command. White teeth grated over his lip as his eyes stayed locked in that of his master’s. Breaking the contact was out of the question, Damien demanded he always be looking at him when in his presence, less his punishments become more severe. The smile remained on the demon’s lips and he chuckled softly, “Oh my Kyle,” he purred, bring up his free hand and tousling his wild curls. “Perhaps on Earth, that is what a _working_ whore desired. What about those who do it for fun, hm?”  
  
Kyle shied a bit, his cheeks beginning to tinge red. “Cock, Master?”  
  
“Very good,” he nodded. “And we all know how you love my cock, isn’t that right?” The redhead bit on his tongue, nodding solemnly in agreement. “Does that make you a whore, my Kyle?”  
  
“Only for you, Master,” he replied faintly, in a daze over what was happening.  
  
Damien looked at him in surprise before twittering again, “Well I wasn’t expecting that kind of answer from you. I don’t believe you’ve said a voluntary sentence that long since I brought you down here.” Kyle couldn’t help a small sniffle that escaped him as Damien continued to fondle his face and hair. It was true, he’d all but shut himself off just as Damien had done by throwing him in his dungeon. He was always weary of saying the wrong things, always poised and tensed for the next attack. Not that the preparation mattered, but a part of his humanity was still fighting, still trying to figure out how he could escape. He knew it was completely pointless, but it was the only thing keeping him -alive- anymore.  
  
Damien continued staring at him, cocking his head, his serpentine eyes half-lidded and nearly dreamy as he held his head. “I enjoy hearing you talk, knowing you’re still in there somewhere...perhaps one day you will be my little phoenix, rising from the ashes of your desecration to be who you once were. I would love nothing more.”  
  
Kyle blinked a few times, his eyes hazy and his mind clouded under the new turn of events. Damien was talking to him as though he were actually a _person_ , not just his fucktoy. It was strange and uncomfortable territory, now knowing full and well that Damien knew of his potential to be more than a piece of ass. Kyle had spent so long convincing himself that the demon just didn’t know any better, that he didn’t understand just how humans were. This new torrent of Damien’s opened floodgates were nearly drowning him, his perception on his reality becoming vexed in the sweeping tide. A threadbare whisper escaped past his lips without his knowledge: “I’ll try, Master.”  
  
The demon only grinned wider, leaning down and gently kissing his trembling mouth. He pulled back, leaving Kyle with wet lips and shining eyes. His entire body seemed to glisten just for Damien, and he relished in it, his eyes hungrily devouring every inch of him, wanting nothing more than to swallow the boy whole. His face suddenly fell back into familiar standing: his grin lecherous and dark. Kyle couldn’t help but feel ridiculous when the familiarity of such a horrifying face brought him the slimmest bit of comfort. “As my whore,” Damien started slowly, “You will enjoy any cock I set you upon, will you not?”  
  
Green eyes suddenly lit up something fierce, terror beginning to sweep in the glowing irises. “Y-yes?” he answered timidly.  
  
“Then you, my dear Kyle, are going to do a job for me,” he grinned maliciously, taking the back of his claw and running it down Kyle’s face and chest, trailing down before hitting the V of his pelvic line. His hand grasped suddenly around Kyle’s exposed cock and the boy cried out softly as he masterfully handled his skin, a lubricating ooze seeping out of his palm with a simple mutter of words. He kept his gaze locked onto the boy’s, watching amusedly as he tried to do the same, shaking in place, his nails scraping against the stone floor beneath him as Damien worked him into nothing more than a pretty puddle of nerves and lust. “I’m ready to share you,” he leaned up and whispered against his lips, flicking a forked tongue out and stabbing at his agape mouth. “And you’re going to be the _world’s_ pretty little whore.”  
  
Panic and confusion battled out with the overwhelming stimulation that Damien was providing him with. His capacity was on the brink, lost and dazed as the rush of pleasure began to beat away his mass concern. His cock was becoming undeniably hard between his thighs, his visions of Damien in front of him muddled and distorted as his body screamed for more. It was embarrassing, the way that his body had adjusted to the abuse, to knowing what it was in for but still having a craving for it. Kyle attributed it to Damien’s soul enveloping his own, and _making_ him want it, but he knew deep in his grim heart that there had to be more to it than that. The grip was suddenly lost from his rock-hard skin and he nearly moaned in dismay. Damien got to his feet, undoing his jeans and letting his own cock pop out above Kyle’s head.  
  
“What is it you want?” Damien asked lowly.  
  
Kyle bowed his head shamefully, his horrid, forced mantra once more having to firmly pass through his lips, “Please, Master...I-I need you to fuck me.”  
  
“Good boy,” he cooed, giving sharp tugs on Kyle’s hair. Kyle raised onto his knees, his mouth dropping as Damien pressed the bitter head of his dick down against his tongue. Kyle opened his jaw as much as he could around the thick skin, his tongue sliding back and forth, trying to give Damien all the stimulation he could manage. His own cock was throbbing, but he paid it no mind, focusing all his efforts onto his master. He forced his cheeks to hollow as his eyes flew up into the demon’s, staying locked as Damien gave him a lusty grin. Sharp claws entangled themselves into his hair, hips began pulsing against his face. His throat dared to try to resist the intrusion, but Kyle forced it down hurriedly. There was no room for hesitation to let Damien do with him as he wished. A command nearly jolted him from his work, “Touch yourself,” the voice demanded.  
  
Kyle beat off his discomfiture and let his hand drift down and wrap around himself, shuddering at the heat passing through the skin. He tepidly pumped on his cock as Damien continued to brutalize his mouth. He could feel his lips becoming raw once again, his jaw aching as it locked into the perfect size for it to be thrust into. His fingers closed tightly around himself and he couldn’t help a whisper of a moan breaking through around the cock in his lips. His free hand dug down into his thigh, nails scraping at the skin as he felt his body thrown into a cataclysm of emotion. The fear, the pain, the pleasure, it was all too much. The chaos was nearly enough to wind him as his stroking became tighter and faster, his mouth swallowing every bit of cock that it was fed. The staunch, musky taste of Damien clouded his senses, interrupted only by an occasional salty splash upon his palate.  
  
Damien kept his eyes firmly planted in Kyle’s, watching satisfactorily as his pet did as commanded with nothing more than an occasional gag. “So good,” he whispered. “A good whore knows just what to do for their owner.” And what a whore Damien had transformed Kyle into over their time together. He remembered fleeting memories of Kyle biting him, kicking, screaming and punching and doing everything in his power to get away from him in the beginning. He could see the cuts he’d given the boy for such disobedience, how he threw his face down into a puddle of blood and cum and had him lick it off the dirty floor as punishment. Watching the redhead’s reserve whittle day by day was an exhilarating thrill ride, one that few orgasms had been able to match. Damien’s dream had always been to tame a human, a creature whose will was so strong that it was thought impenetrable. Even now, as he watched his captive taking his cock down into his mouth without so much as a whimper, he knew that Kyle still had reserve. He knew that if the little firecracker got so much as a chance, he’d fight through and break free. The power of the demon’s soul _still_ hadn’t been able to completely claim him as of yet; The mortal’s body rejecting him like a faulted transplant. It was inspiring in a way, watching the shell of a once proud and strong boy still clinging onto what little he had left, even as Damien used him, a few spare sparks of defiance still marred his now typically exhausted features.  
  
Damien grunted and ripped out of Kyle’s lips, his mouth still slack from its use. He panted, raising his free arm to wipe drool off of his chin. “Turn,” Damien ordered. Kyle gulped, pivoting on his knees. He bent his head down against the floor, his back slanted downwards and his ass in the air presented for his keeper, staring off at the wall as he felt Damien moving behind him. His thighs were grabbed and spread, his hips and muscles singing angrily at the position. “Don’t stop touching yourself,” a lathering voice rang deep in a warm breath against his skin. Kyle bit his lip, propping himself on one arm and letting the other travel back between his legs. He gasped as he felt a wet warmth prodding at his hole, wriggling and demanding access. His eyes flickered down behind him, feeling Damien’s hands pulling his ass cheeks apart and delving his forked tongue deep inside of him. He couldn’t stop a few shocked chokes, the strange texture and shape of Damien’s tongue conforming inside his muscle in a completely surreal sensation.  
  
He wasn’t used to this. He was used to being hit, Damien launching inside him with no preparation, not being allowed to feel _any_ pleasure unless Damien was the one giving it to him. The whole thing made him feel sick, his head swimming as it battled between nausea and titillation. He couldn’t contain a moan that irked its way out of his throat, sounding like it’d been strangled right out of him. Damien pulled back, licking his lips and wiping the saliva off his chin, watching the boy with extreme indulgence. His ears were practically burning with the sound that he’d made his pet make. So few times had he gotten any kind of pleasured sound; only cries of pain, orgasming with a noise of embarrassment and anger time and again. This was a new toy to the demon, and he wanted to play.  
  
Another set of words fumbled out of Damien’s hungry mouth, poor oblivious Kyle still reeling from Damien’s tongue to be able to notice. Suddenly warm, lubed fingers pressed down into him and his mouth once more went agape in a silent scream. Damien’s claws were dulled down in the midst of his spell, something Kyle was extremely grateful for. He didn’t have much time for focusing on that however as Damien automatically found his target, jarring his fingers around inside the boy. Kyle screamed, unable to contain himself as the stimulation shot straight down to his throbbing cock still being played in his hand. Damien shuddered excitedly at the noise, his fangs beaming as he stared at Kyle’s body eagerly swallowing his fingers.  
  
“You’re going to cum for me, do you understand?” he demanded, shaking his fingers again and letting Kyle’s body contract around him in ecstasy.  
  
The name was barely able to be whispered, nearly inaudible over the slick sound of Damien thrusting his fingers in and out, but a soft “ _D-Damien..._ ” hit the demon’s sharpened hearing like a freight train. He stopped his fingers, prompting a pathetic whine to escape his victim as he stared down on him. His lips curled into a mean smirk and he resumed his motions, harder and faster than before. Never once had Kyle said his name in the middle of being taken. It was always ‘you bastard’ or ‘you fucker’ before it slowly became ‘Master’ over time. Never had it been so deliciously informal, never had Damien heard his name spoken so beautifully, escaping from those lips now pleading silently as the redhead rode his fingers. He glanced underneath the boy, his knuckles practically white as he gripped himself and tugged viciously on his cock. Damien couldn’t help but grow a self-satisfied smirk. Kyle was close.  
  
He pulled his fingers out once again, bending Kyle’s hips down even further. He slathered his aching cock in more of his incantation lubrication before slamming down into the redhead with no preemptive. Kyle moaned and shook his head, his free hand clawing desperately at the floor. Damien dove down into him fast and deep, his hips slapping against Kyle’s ass, his balls colliding between the boy’s thighs in a barrage of angry passion. The sound echoed around them, only enhanced by Kyle’s moans beginning to become more vocal and guttural, the strangled noises being forced down in the midst of his singing pleasure.  
  
Kyle couldn’t make heads or tails of what was happening. He was riding a high that he hadn’t felt before, he didn’t know he could _ever_ feel like he was in that moment. His entire body seemed to want to coil, his head for once devoid of anger or frustration and replaced instead with his body screaming for more of whatever Damien was feeding him. The stimulation Damien’s cock provided him felt different than usual. Not scraping along his insides, not burning nearly as badly. It was still filling his ass, his body seeming to stretch to its limits, but in a good way. The slickness of Damien’s personal lube dribbled down his thighs, slipped in and out of him with each animalistic push.  
  
Damien’s head nearly spun as Kyle’s hips began pressing back into him on his own accord. He usually had to tell him to do that. But there his redhead was, grunting and pressing his free hand against the floor, pushing back into his rhythm as though he were consumed by lust. “Look at me,” Damien ordered, feeling his stomach beginning to swell pleasurably. Kyle’s head shot around, staring into his gaze over a pale, lightly freckled shoulder. A deep, gorgeous shadow encompassing his eye color that Damien had never seen before only brought him closer towards his end. It was lust all right. It clung onto Kyle’s body like a fog, mingling with his sweat in a sweetly pungent aroma that Damien knew could become an addiction like nothing else.  
  
He wanted more.  
  
One of his hands shot up, entangling itself into Kyle’s hair and ripping his head back, an airy yelp escaping but his hips and hand never faltering. Damien eyed his claim mark with a heady smirk. The purple and red splotches stood out against Kyle’s clammy skin, the sweat pouring down it making them shimmer; A beacon for everything and everyone to know what he had done to make Kyle his bitch. “You’re going to cum for me,” he growled, tangling his fingers deeper and pulling at the roots of the ember locks, “And you’re going to scream my name, do you understand me?”  
  
Kyle nodded briskly, his mouth wide open in pain and pleasure. He was unbelievably close, his body tightly wound and ready to spring loose. He’d never felt this with Damien, it made him all the more sick, but he _needed_ to feel this. It was the closest thing he’d had to happiness in so long, the closest thing to feeling halfway human again. This was a moment that needed to happen, shame or not. His mouth managed to fumble out a barrage of ‘fucks’ and ‘Gods’ as Damien continued slamming into his body, never breaking his wonderful tempo.  
  
Damien was right on the edge with him, staring at his stark complexion in comparison to the dingy room they were harbored in and shuddering. Kyle was gorgeous, the complete opposite of everything that his home stood for. He was Damien’s personal angel, one that he’d stolen from the Heavens to make his life more bearable. One that he took as a challenge for both himself and the boy he was impaling. Neither of them had won quite yet, Damien well into the lead, but Kyle wasn’t going to go down so easily. Damien knew that this moment wasn’t going to last. So he enjoyed his view, watching him now as not only submissive but nearly _willing_...It was intoxicating.  
  
Kyle’s breaths became spastic, his hand working faster against his cock now pulsing in his palm as he fisted himself. His mind fleeted to his order right before he finally let loose, crying Damien’s name loudly in a fit of inebriated spasms. He practically lost all sight, all sense of reasoning as his body refused to let the pleasure go, clinging onto it like it knew that could very well be the last time it’d experience such a good thing. He rode his orgasm throughout, his muscles clamping around Damien’s cock still buried deep in his ass and prompting a hiss out of the boy behind him. It finally became too much and he groaned, catching himself on shaky hands, panting and sweating as he attempted to keep pushing back against Damien’s thrusts. He was so tired, his body numb and used, not used to the extreme set of emotions that he just went through.  
  
A strong arm wrapped down under his chest and pulled him onto his knees, pulled back straight against Damien’s torso as the demon continued pounding into him with vigor. He leaned his head back against Damien’s shoulder and moaned as the sensation of being filled was becoming almost too much for him. His head lolled to the side, looking up at his master with his eyes beginning to fade back into their typical murky green state. Damien licked his lips, feeling Kyle’s hips weakly rocking back against his assault and grinning. “Good whore, _such_ a good whore,” he cooed, his breathing losing its steadiness as Kyle’s muscle continued to lock down around his cock. “Gonna cum inside you, let you _feel_ what a whore you are,” he promised. Kyle merely nodded, letting him use him with little more than groans escaping his lips.  
  
Hearing Kyle scream his name did everything for Damien, the sound still echoing around in his head as he re-grew his claws, taking his free hand and digging them into Kyle’s hip. The redhead hissed and threw his head back against him, his narrow chest arching up gracefully and that was all he could take. He shouted, clasping around his pet as tightly as he could muster, slamming into him for all he was worth as he felt himself being pushed out into the void of Kyle’s body. Kyle arched and gasped at the warmth releasing inside of him, his hands coming back and scratching Damien’s shoulders and chest hurriedly. Damien couldn’t help but realize, however, they were not scratches of panic. The lust was still buried in the boy, he was clawing him closer. Damien continued pushing until his body absolutely refused to go any further. He fell back on his knees, still holding around the boy and still settled inside of him. Kyle limply lied in his embrace, panting and trying his damnedest to keep his eyes on Damien should he look his way. “So good,” Damien chuckled breathlessly, turning and locking stares with him. He smirked, planting a brash kiss on his mouth before pulling out of him and setting him on the floor, back into his kneeling position.  
 He noticed the redness of his knees, the little specks of blood flowing freely down his damaged hip. Kyle was always a sight after sex, but this time, it was different. His body was glowing with what Damien thought to be a strange mix of relaxation and tension all at once. It wasn’t his usual shamed near-tears stance. The redhead was looking at him almost expectantly, like he expected him to come over and tell him he loved him or something of the sort.  
  
“What’s on your mind, Kyle?” he asked, hoping he would get more than a one or two word answer. “And for once, I will grant you this favor:,” he added, getting a little spark out of Kyle’s vision and smirking lightly at it. “Unless you are about to insult me, whatever you say will not be punishable.” This promise seemed to relax Kyle’s figure even more. He bit at his lip shyly, seeming to still be trying to force out his answer. It wasn’t exactly a surprise, Damien was amazed to hear him say _anything_. A part of him forgot that in the beginning, the boy wouldn’t shut up. He couldn’t deny that he missed that part of him.  
  
“Y-you said...” he faltered and flinched automatically, expecting to be hit or something. He looked to see Damien waiting patiently while he stuffed himself back into his jeans and he sighed in relief. “You said...you were ready to share me...” he trembled. “W-what did you mean, Master?” he added the title hoping for good graces points in case his question had severely fucked him over. There was little Damien liked more than knowing that Kyle knew where he stood between the two of them.  
  
Damien paused, staring at the redhead who was looking more and more frightened with each moment of silence that passed between them. Slowly, a wicked grin began to etch itself onto his face, watching the boy with amused eyes. He reached forward, cupping Kyle’s chin and wiping off the boy’s sweaty brow. He pressed his lips against his forehead, his words spilling into the bone like a sweet nectar, “Come with me, my little phoenix, and I’ll show you.”


	2. Chapter 2

  
He awoke as he typically did, with a startling burst of energy flashing within his reformed body. His newly grown limbs burned as nerves began to flare back into action, his first breath in his new body always winding him. His hearing and sight were back to the perfection they had been as a child, everything pumping and flowing strongly within him. However, the resurgence rarely gave him hope anymore.   
  
They hadn’t for the last...he looked over with squinted blue eyes towards his calender, his heart dropping sadly as it did each time. The last year, seven months, and twenty two days. He sat up slowly, his gaze falling atop his lap, his heart hot and heavy in his chest. Once again, another death had passed him by, another day had been spent in the toils of Hell. He’d looked high and low for his captive friend, just as he did every other encounter. But he’d learned quickly that Hell was a vaster plane than Earth itself, and finding Kyle in all the chaos would be nearly impossible. It never wavered his efforts however. He knew that something had to be done. Someone had to find him and save him from whatever he was being subjected to, and no one else on Earth could do that better than Kenny himself. No one else could go down and resurface as he did, and he was damn thankful for it. He used to loathe his ‘talent’, despised what he considered to be nothing more than the cruel taunt of an angry and vengeful God. Nowadays, however, he was more often than not looking forward to his trips down into the abyss.   
  
Lord knew that their efforts on Earth weren’t getting them anywhere.  
  
He grabbed his phone from his nightstand and quickly swiped it open to Stan’s name, typing in exhaustedly, ‘ _Where r u?_ ’  
  
A few moments passed before he responded, _‘Library with Cartman._ ’  
  
Kenny bit his lip and took a heavy breath. ‘ _Cool, be there in a few_.’ He quickly leapt to his feet, stumbling a bit as his revitalized limbs attempted to wobble him down to the ground. No time for that however. He propelled himself forward out of his room and down the hall towards his front door. The library had become his and Stan’s sacred place, one where countless hours of research had been poured out. Studies on Hell, the Devil himself, the Occult...it was nothing short of maddening how much they had been forced to learn over the last year and a half, how much of it amounted to nothing.  
  
He groaned, stepping out of his home and meeting the brisk chill of the September air with a grimace. His feet took him automatically towards his destination, having walked the path so many times since Kyle had been stolen away before his eyes.   
  
Ken shuddered, that damning anamnesis playing before him once again. The one that haunted his dreams, that plagued him as he walked around the high school, sitting in class and trying to pretend to give a rat’s ass. He knew that it was inevitable, however. It was something that he and Stan could never shake away. It stayed seated within them, following the two of them around like shadows. Never quite enough to physically touch, but enough to see play out in front of them like a horror matinee.   
  
He remembered it quite clearly, how the three of them had been sitting in Kyle’s room atop his bed, tossing Kyle’s JV championship-winning basketball between each other. They’d been talking about schoolwork, how their teachers were assholes, typical banter between them before they were about to go off and see a movie. Kenny recalled with a humorless irony that they’d planned to see a movie about a girl being possessed by a demon. Stan had been in the middle of a sentence, complaining about football season starting back up when Damien had emerged through the floor. Kenny had been the only one to recognize him right away, having seen him in his numerous trips time and again. Kyle and Stan had both recoiled on the bed in shock, but seeing Kenny’s relaxed disposition, they’d followed suit. It took a few moments but their faces slowly fell into a calm state as the realization of who was in front of them took hold.  
  
However, Kenny had _not_ been as nonchalant as his appearance made it seem; Not once he realized that he was still alive, and how Damien had no place being where he was. He remembered asking Damien if he wanted him for something, to which Damien had merely smirked. He’d looked over at Stan for a moment, before his eyes settled on Kyle. Something about that stare, something about the way they gleamed so deviously in the afternoon light beaming into Kyle’s room made Kenny’s hair bristle. He knew something wasn’t right. He knew that that look was unfamiliar on Damien’s face. It seemed almost _carniverous_.   
  
“You must be Kyle,” he’d directed towards the redhead.  
  
The boy had blinked and nodded, “Yeah, that’s me. We met a long time ago if you remember.”  
  
A snake tongue had broken out, licking over his lips slowly as he nodded. “Yes. Kyle. Wonderful,” he’d chuckled. “Tell me, dear Kyle, what is it you value the most of your life?” Kyle’s face had contorted at that, Kenny’s stomach settling uneasily at Damien’s addition to the boy’s name. Something just wasn’t _right_.  
  
“Well...” Kyle scrunched his nose in thought. “Gonna sound gay but these faggots,” he gestured aimlessly towards Stan and Kenny. Stan had laughed and called him a homo, hitting his shoulder while Kyle just snorted and shrugged. Kenny could barely feel the loving embrace that the words held, his eyes never leaving Damien’s. The blonde could remember how tensed he felt, how much a part of him was screaming to get Kyle out of there as quickly as he could.  
  
Why he didn’t listen to instinct, he’d never know.  
  
Damien’s grin grew sardonic and large before them, all of them backing up a bit on the bed. “Well then, my Kyle, I suppose you should be feeling lucky,” he’d chuckled.  
  
Once more, the redhead’s face had screwed up. “What are you talking about? And just call me Kyle, you’re weirding me out with the ‘dear’ and ‘my’ bullshit.”  
  
“Ky...” Kenny had breathed, reaching over and grabbing his arm softly as he realized Damien’s eyes were beginning to peak with that soft ember glow that occurred whenever things were about to start spiraling out of control. “Damien, w-what do you want?” he’d asked, his voice wavering, terrified that he already knew the answer. One quick flicker of garnet eyes screamed the truth and Kenny panicked, trying to jump forward and shield Kyle before he felt himself being thrown back onto the carpet by an invisible force. He looked up to see Stan slammed down as well, Kyle trying to get to them in a frenzy before his arm was snared by the demon. The redhead had looked up, that defiant fire that was such a large part of who he was burning in his eyes as he snarled, punching against Damien furiously.  
  
“Let go of me, you freak!” he’d screamed, pained tears invading his jade irises as sharp, unforgiving claws dug into his tender flesh.  
  
Damien had pulled him closer, his grip unwavering against Kyle’s thrashing. A strong hand slapped down over Kyle’s mouth, the grip on his arm releasing only so Damien’s own could wrap around him and hold him steadier. Kyle’s back arched frantically against his chest as he tried to escape the death grip locking him in. His socked feet kicked back, trying to find a stance to get himself out of his hold. Damien had chuckled, staring at the fighting boy amusedly, his crimson eyes dancing at the sight. “They’re the most important things to you on this earth,” he’d whispered, licking over his lips yet again. He leaned down and grazed over the pink shell of Kyle’s ear, growling lowly, “And they get to be the last thing you see.”  
  
Kenny and Stan both went livid at those words, leaping from their positions on the floor towards the demon. Damien scoffed and merely stared at them with those glowing eyes, both of them flying back, slamming into the wall and falling onto the bed on their stomachs. They had tried like no other to get themselves back up and towards the redhead, but to no avail.  
  
“Damien, let him go!” Kenny had screamed.  
  
Then those words, those fucking words that followed Kenny wherever he went were uttered. The slow, purposeful monotony, dripping with somber promise raged on in the blonde’s heart: “ _He belongs to me now_ ”.  
  
Kyle’s eyes had widened, looking between Stan and Kenny in desperation as his thrashing became more and more violent. Damien held onto him without so much as a wince, his powers keeping Kenny and Stan hostage down on the bed, feeling as though the very air itself was holding them steady. The pressure on their bodies was immense, the wind being crushed out of their lungs.  
  
“L-leave him alone!” Stan had managed to stammer out as he tried clawing at Kyle’s bedspread to get to him.  
  
Damien had just laughed, moving his hand up from Kyle’s mouth into his hair and ripping his head back, Kyle yelping and twisting in his grip. Sharp teeth sank into a slender throat and the two on the bed went into hysterics as the struggles of the redhead slowly simmered down, a high pitched howl of agony ringing throughout the small room.  
  
“DAMIEN, NO!” Kenny had screeched, his fingers doing their damnedest to move towards them. He and Stan looked at each other briefly, each pair of blue eyes praying that the other had some indication of what to do. They had both shot their stares back over, watching in terror as Kyle’s body limply slumped back into Damien before the demon swooped him up in his arms. Kyle’s head fell over, looking over at Stan and Kenny with his eyes still moving around like fireflies caught in a jar, the only thing about him that screamed that he was still alive; that still pleaded for their help.  
  
“KYLE GET UP!” Stan screamed, his cheeks moist and glistening with fallen tears. “THE FUCK DO YOU WANT WITH HIM?!” he’d angrily choked out at Damien.  
  
He had just chuckled evilly, looking at his victim with a grin on his face. “I want him to be mine,” he cooed, holding under Kyle with one arm and brushing red tresses out of the boy’s face. Garnets flickered up towards Kenny. “Thank you, McCormick, for all the stories you told me of this boy. You were right, he’s quite a sight to behold indeed.”  
  
Kenny had began burning red in his cheeks, feeling Stan looking at him confusedly. “Let. Him. Go,” the blonde managed to breathe out between gritted teeth.   
  
“No,” he said simply, shaking his head and looking back at Kyle. “I think you mortals have had enough time with him. It’s my turn to experience just what it is you find so enthralling about him, McCormick.”  
  
“Damien, please!” he’d begged. “He doesn’t deserve that!”  
  
The demon had merely laughed. “I’ll take good care of him, don’t you worry...” he grinned down at the redhead ensnared in his grip. “Take a good look, Kyle,” he’d purred. “Take a good look at the life you once had, because now your new one begins as _mine_.” A soft whimper had escaped Kyle’s bloodied throat, but nothing more. Panicked green eyes flickered perilously between the two boys. Kenny shuddered as he could recall how his eyes were screaming. Never before had he seen such a look on another being’s face; one of pure and utter horror engraved deep in pools of jade. Damien had looked up and smirked, “I’m sure he’ll miss you,” he chuckled before seeping down into the floor with their friend’s limp form.  
  
The hold on them was relinquished and they leapt onto the carpet, trying desperately to follow them into the void. They screamed Kyle’s name for what felt like hours, fingers digging into the carpet of his room, tears streaming down their faces in droves. It was a mess, it was a blur, and it was nothing but panic and vehement sobbing from Stan and Kenny as reality slowly began to set on them.  
  
It’d been so damn long since that day, but it rang through like a bell almost every hour for Kenny. The images were scarily concise, from the glistening of Damien’s fangs to the panicked wrinkle on Kyle’s forehead before he was paralyzed. The eyes that the redhead had that day were perhaps the most daunting part of the nightmare. Kenny could feel them _everywhere_. He bit his lip, shoving his hands into his pockets and sniffling a bit. His eyes clenched shut for a moment and he could see nothing but emeralds glittering with unshed tears staring back at him. The blonde’s past was full of mutilations, of graphic and grotesque violence against himself, but no memory could ever overshadow the pure dread of that day.  
  
He finally creaked open bloodshot cerulean eyes, looking up at the library in front of him. His shoulders drooped and he gulped. He knew today would probably be nothing more than what it had been for so long: nothing but dead ends and heartache.   
  
He stepped through the sliding glass doors, automatically finding Stan and Cartman sitting at a table in the middle of the spread with books piled up beside them. Kenny heaved a heavy sigh, trudging over and sitting down next to Stan. “Anything?” he asked quietly.  
  
Stan shook his head, giving him a look that was all but permanent on his face anymore. Losing his best friend in such a way practically killed Stan, his entire life being consumed with getting him back. His eyes were dull husks of their former selves, a few grey hairs had sprouted in the midst of it all. The harsh truth of the situation was always plainly spilled all over his stoney face. “You find anything in Hell?” he asked back.  
  
“No, nothin’,” Kenny sighed defeatedly, grabbing one of the books from the stack and flipping through it with burning eyes. He knew that he should be gladdened that Stan was now fully aware of the pendulum that was Kenny’s mortality, something that didn’t start until he knew that he could benefit from his deaths. But Kenny would give that up in a heartbeat if Kyle could come back. He’d happily let them be blissfully unaware of his tragedy if it meant the four of them could be together again.  
  
Cartman watched the two of them a bit with a calculating amber gaze, as always, feeling torn on the situation. Getting Kyle out of his hair had been his dream for so long, but losing him had sucked all the life out of everyone he knew. He’d always thought to himself that it would’ve been easier had Kyle just _died_. At least then, no one would think there was a possibility of his return. There would be no rescue mission constantly being planned out. His life wouldn’t have turned down the same road as Stan and Kenny’s, being obsessed with finding a way to get Kyle back on Earth. It had never been a mission of friendship for the brunette, it’d been a mission of getting everyone else just to shut up about the situation at hand. Only once did he question whether or not it was worth it. Stan nearly breaking his nose and Kenny kicking him in the chest repeatedly while he was down quickly beat that inquiry down into the dust.  
  
“You finding anything, Cartman?” Ken asked tiredly.  
  
“Same as usual,” he rolled his eyes. “Same fucking rituals we’ve already tried.”   
  
The three of them had practically terrified all of South Park into believing that they were beginning a cult with their constant sacraments. They all had spilt so much of their own blood in attempts to summon Damien or any other kind of demon to Earth for questioning. Each of them had scars on their hands from cutting too deeply, wanting too desperately. No attempts had worked so far, nothing more than bloodstained clothing and burnt out candles to show for their efforts.   
  
Kenny looked sadly down at a picture in his book, one depicting the sacrifice of a virgin for good fortune. He narrowed his eyes angrily at it. At least there was a plain reason why the drawn character had been chosen. Why Kyle had been taken, he could never figure out, though Damien’s words thanking him in Kyle’s room pitted his stomach with constant guilt. He and the demon were never necessarily friends, but they tended to hang out often when Kenny had died before the whole scenario. Damien never minded the companionship away from demons and Kenny was cool with just drinking and playing checkers with him in lieu of being sent for torture.   
  
He had told Damien so many stories about all his friends over his multiple deaths. He told him about Cartman’s sadism, specifically citing the Tenorman situation, prompting the demon to laugh until tears fell down his face and a wicked grin spread along his cheeks. He’d told Kenny to do him a favor and compliment the brunette for such a feat, noting that he may earn himself a place as a torturer when he passed. A notion which the blonde never passed along; Cartman had enough of an ego as it was.   
  
He’d told him about Stan’s popularity, how the masses flocked to him in droves throughout their lives. How even though he was so well liked, he kept himself humble, always opting to hang out with himself, Kyle, and Cartman even though the three of them were so low on the totem pole they may as well have been buried under the foundation. Damien had merely rolled his eyes at that, saying that Stan was just too much of an idiot to realize how lame Kenny was, that was the only reason they were still friends. Ken had laughed at that and thrown a beer bottle at him, he remembered how it was always so easy to talk to and joke around with him, regardless of his stature in Hell. How Damien never judged him on what he did right or wrong, how he paid fleeting attention to him as only an acquaintance could.  
  
But once Kenny talked about Kyle, the attention was _never_ just fleeting. Damien’s eyes would be wide and red, taking in each sip of Ken’s words like a fine wine. Kenny told him about Kyle’s heart, his good nature. He told him about how over the years, the redhead had bandaged up his wounds and put food in his stomach, how he treated Kenny like the most important thing in his life whenever he was around him. He remembered vaguely how Damien once commented on how Kenny smiled whenever he talked about the boy, how he seemed to glow in the fire of memories before him. The blonde couldn’t deny it, he loved to talk about Kyle, and Damien seemed to love to hear stories about him as well. Ken recalled one full day where he did _nothing_ but tell the demon Kyle stories at his request. Tales of morals learned and fights that Kyle had taken the reins over, times he had fallen and times where he seemed to shine in his place.  
  
He never found it odd, thinking Damien was just intrigued about someone that made Kenny so happy. Now, he regretted not figuring it all out, feeling like a complete fool for the way that he practically gift-wrapped the redhead for Damien. He never realized the pure _obsession_ that Damien had developed, despite not seeing Kyle with his own eyes for so very long. He seemed entranced with the idea of someone so gentle and kind-hearted having such a fiery temper and passion for getting things his way. This went on for months and months before Damien finally made his move, before he had his fill of mere stories and wanted the full tale to play out before his very own eyes.  
  
Stan sighed lengthily and lied his head on top of his book, shaking his head slowly along the pages. “I feel like we’ve tried everything,” he whimpered. “I...I don’t know what to do anymore...”  
  
Kenny bit his lip, placing a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. “There’s gotta be something we haven’t found,” he said softly. “You know that if one of us got taken instead, Kyle would be researching nonstop to find us again.”  
  
He raised his head to stare back into Kenny’s gaze, deep blue eyes glistening in the florescent lighting surrounding them. “Kyle would’ve already found the answer,” he croaked. He looked back down at his book and his shoulders dropped. “He was the smart one...he would’ve figured it out months ago...” he paused, looking back at the blonde. “Do...do you think he hates us?”  
  
Kenny raised his brow, “Why would he hate _us_?”  
  
“Because we couldn’t save him!” he sniveled. “B-because he’s been a fucking prisoner for so goddamn long and we haven’t been able to get close to saving him...hell, he may not even _remember_ us at this point!”  
  
Cartman scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Please. As stubborn as that Jew is, you think he’s already forgotten about you three being butt-buddies? I’m surprised that demon faggot hasn’t sent him back because he’d be annoying the shit out of anyone who kidnapped his dumb ass.”  
  
Kenny and Stan both shot him a vicious look. “Obviously Ky hasn’t been too ‘annoying’ since he isn’t _here_ ,” Kenny spat.  The brunette merely glared back at them before looking back at his book, muttering under his breath. Kenny sighed and looked back at the noirette beside him with a fallen expression. “Stan, Kyle wouldn’t hate us. He’s too smart to think that we just abandoned him or something. Besides, Damien probably has him under such tight wraps all he _can_ do is think about us.”  
  
The look on Stan’s face twisted Kenny’s stomach something awful, the pure heartbreak and harsh reality of his words seeping into the flesh. “What...what if we did get him back and...and Damien fucked him up so bad that-”  
  
“Stop,” Kenny cut him off sharply. “Even if he was messed up, we’d fix him. We’ve fixed him after breakdowns and shit before, and he’d be doing nothing but being our 24/7 psychologist if it was one of us. We’re going to get him back, Stan. We’re going to get our Kyle back. I swear it.” Stan slowly nodded at his words, looking back at the table exhaustedly. Kenny’s heart pounded painfully away in his chest, wondering if there was any truth to his statements. He didn’t know what Damien would do to the boy, he knew full well what he was capable of, but he didn’t know the extent at which the demon would take it with his captive.  
  
His answer came in a startling burst through the doors of the library, shoes clomping loudly as they ran towards the group. They turned and raised their brows at Clyde and Craig sprinting towards them, looking beyond shocked and out of breath.  
  
“Guys?” Kenny blinked. “What’s going on?”  
  
Craig moistened his lips, looking at them intensively. “Th-they found him!”  
  
“Found who?” Cartman asked as the three of them quickly got to their feet, all of them trying desperately not to get their hopes up.  
  
Clyde gulped, looking at Craig before staring back at the anxious group before them. “It’s Kyle...h-he’s back.”  
  
  


 


	3. Chapter 3

  
  
They’d barely heard Clyde and Craig shouting after them that Kyle was back at his house, much too busy letting their adrenaline propel them out of the library and through the threshold of the small mountain town. The three of them had never ran so fast in their lives, their minds whirring in complete confusion. Craig and Clyde had sounded so hesitant and worried upon telling them what should have been the most wonderful news in the world. One thought continually slipped in and out of their psyche, each of them trying to push it down with other excuses: _What if he’s dead?_  
  
The thought only pushed them further and faster, rounding the corner of the library onto Kyle’s street. Kenny nearly slid down onto the sidewalk in his haste on a thin patch of ice, but Stan and Cartman caught him, knowing full and well that if he’d fallen, he would have been back in Hell for another day. What was going on was far too important for fate to piss on him right now. The two of them kept a firm grip on the blonde’s arms and they ran linked together closer and closer to the Broflovski residence. They noticed a strange car in the driveway and their throats lurched. The didn’t know who it could possibly be, but Sheila and Gerald wouldn’t have kept any friends around if their son had just been found after nearly two years.  
  
They headed up the beaten-down snow of the walkway and burst in through the front door, mannerisms being the absolute last thing on their minds. They came upon Sheila, Ike, and Gerald all sitting on the couch, an older gentleman standing in front of them. The four of them looked at them in shock at their entrance before Sheila smiled meekly, tears running down her plump cheeks.  
  
“Oh boys...oh boys, he’s back!” She sobbed, dabbing at her eyes with a wadded tissue. The three of them couldn’t help but stare at her and Gerald, noticing how much they’d aged since Kyle’s disappearance. Gray hairs were prominent on both of them, Gerald salt-and-peppered like no other. They both had wrinkles beginning on their faces and hands, dark rings under their eyes. Ike wasn’t looking much better, looking as though he’d been up nonstop for the last few years. It wouldn’t be much of a surprise, Kenny and Stan didn’t get much sleep, either.  
  
“Where is he?” Stan managed to fumble out, distracted by Sheila’s tears. The smile on her face sent his mind reeling. Was it happy that Kyle was back and alive? Or just happy they’d be able to see their son one last time? He shuddered the thought away, Kenny seeming to read his mind and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.  
  
Ike cleared his throat and took a deep breath, “Guys, he isn’t looking so good...”  
  
“He’s stable though,” the older man intervened quickly, trying to comfort the absolute devastation that washed over Stan and Ken’s faces..  
  
“Boys, this is Dr. Barash,” Gerald said softly. “We called him to look at Kyle after we...found him,” he rubbed his arms a bit, shaking his head as though in disbelief.  
  
“Where did you find him?” Cartman asked, a lot firmer than anyone else in the room seemed to be able to muster.  
  
Ike bit his lip, “We...we came home from Synagogue and found him on the sidewalk...naked and just lying in the snow curled up. He must have been there for a good while...he was completely iced when we got him inside.”  
  
Their jaws dropped and they looked at the doctor desperately. The man nodded solemnly, “Boys, don’t worry. Kyle is all right. He seems to not have suffered any trauma outside of scarring...he-” he paused, looking at the family and letting his shoulders sink a bit before resuming. “He seems to have really gotten roughened up in his time...away,” he chose the word very carefully for the volatile group. “He’s unconscious right now but I don’t think he needs to be laid up in a hospital just yet. We’re going to give him a few hours and go from there.”  
  
Sheila got to her feet, nervously pacing around. “My poor bubbeleh,” she sobbed softly, a hand clasped over her mouth. “Who would do _that_ to my baby?!” she stopped and looked at the frightened faces standing in her doorway. She grated her lip and looked on guiltily. “He has so many scars, so many...words,” she shook her head and sniffled. “I-I don’t know what they mean...”  
  
“Where is he?” Kenny asked her softly. “Can we see him?”  
  
She nodded, walking over and grasping the boys in as much of an embrace as her stout arms allowed. She pulled back and took a wavering breath, pointing towards the steps. “He’s up in his room,” she informed them. “We thought maybe...when he wakes up...he’d like to have that be the first thing he sees, to know that he’s home,” she smiled weakly.  
  
Stan gave her one back, giving her a quick hug back, “That’s a great idea,” he murmured. “He’ll love that...” he looked at the other two before pushing past them, leading the way up the steps. Each of them took each stair with extreme caution, feeling such a heavy blanket of dread from ideas of what they would find that it nearly smothered them. They could feel the stares of the group in the living room as they trudged up the way. They found themselves at the foot of the steps, staring at Kyle’s bedroom. They’d been in that room so many times in their past, just barging in would be nothing new. But now it felt like everything had to be slow, like one of them moving too fast would result in the redhead getting snatched back by Damien.  
  
Stan gulped, once again taking charge before faltering outside of the cracked-open door. “I’m so fucking terrified right now,” he whispered, a cool chill descending down his spine.  
  
Kenny nodded, “I’ll go first. I’ve seen some bad shit before...” he trailed off a bit before swallowing his equaled anxiety and pressing on. He slowly placed his fingertips on the wooden barrier, letting it creak open slowly. The three of them poked their heads in, finding a frail figure on his back on the bed above the covers, green plaid pajamas loosely pulled up his hips. Even from the distance, they could tell in the afternoon light beaming through the windows that he was way too pale, _way_ too skinny. They stepped into the room, feeling a rush of heat and nearly jolting in panic that Damien had come back to claim his victim before seeing it was nothing more than a space heater the Broflovski’s had set up for the boy.   
  
A shudder passed over the group as they realized nothing had been changed in the room. It was all dusted and cleaned, as though Sheila kept her hopes of his return high enough to always have his room ready. It wouldn’t have surprised them. Kenny winced at the basketball still on the floor that Stan had dropped when he was thrown onto the ground. _Nothing_ was different. Nothing except the boy on the bed.  
  
Kenny made way towards him with steps that seemed to take hours, his breath hitched and heart pounding at the possibilities of what they’d find. As he stood over Kyle at his head, Stan and Cartman standing beside him, his heart stopped in its tracks. All three eyes scanned over him in absolute horror.   
  
Scars _everywhere_. His forearms, his hips, his hands. They were gnarled and twisted looking, spelling words in rushed, jagged lines like they carved with a rusted dagger. A deep red tattoo was imprinted on his chest and stomach, Stan ran his fingers over it and nearly hissed. It _burned_. The bite marks on his neck were disgustingly prominent in the glow of the sun, that damning purple and red standing out so heavily against alabaster skin. Kenny couldn’t help himself, reaching down and caressing Kyle’s thinned face, seeing the nearly black rings beneath his eyes and wanting to do nothing short of burst into tears.  
  
“Jesus Christ...” Stan whimpered. “What did he _do_ to him?”  
  
“Latin,” Cartman said in a murmur.  
  
Kenny finally tore his eyes from his fallen friend and looked at the brunette. “What?”  
  
Cartman pointed to the words imprinted on Kyle’s skin. “The words. They’re Latin...” he grimaced, turning and walking towards Kyle’s desk. He grabbed the boy’s laptop, still plugged in from when he’d been taken. “Hopefully this thing still works,” he frowned, walking back over and setting it on the bed, opening the screen and letting it boot up. Stan and Kenny glanced over, their hearts sinking as it came out of sleep mode, revealing Kyle’s background picture to be one of the four of them they’d taken not two months before his kidnapping. They couldn’t help but share a small, sad smile with each other. It was the same one they used for their own backgrounds. “What a fag,” Cartman muttered out of reflex, managing to open Kyle’s browser, still saved from the last time he used it.  
  
Stan snorted a bit and shook his head, “He was applying for the library. What a nerd.” Kenny laughed weakly with him, unable to take his fingers off of Kyle’s clammy skin. He needed the reassurance. He needed to feel him, to know he wasn’t just imagining the figure beneath him.  
  
Cartman stared at Kyle’s chest, his brows furrowed as he pulled up a translator, typing in the term ‘ _meapte_ ’, frowning. “‘Mine’,” he read.   
  
Kenny’s heart sank as he noticed a smaller tattoo hidden under one of his protuberant rib bones. “Guys...Damien signed it,” he whispered, pointing to a small 666 riding the crest of the bone.   
  
“Look up these ones,” Stan rasped out, pointing to Kyle’s hip bones. He squinted and dictated to Cartman, “‘ _anima diaboli_ ’.”  
  
Cartman quickly transcribed and waited for the results, cocking his brow. “‘Devil’s soul’,” he said.  
  
“Oh Jesus no,” Stan whispered.  
  
“His arms, Kinny,” Cartman urged, even his own amber eyes beginning to glisten with worry. This was getting worse and worse by the second and a very terrifying picture was beginning to take place in front of them.  
  
Ken gulped and barely stammered out, “‘ _M-mea meretrix_ ’.”  
  
Cartman growled just barely loud enough for Stan and Kenny to make out and shook his head. “It means ‘my whore’.”  
  
Stan’s jaw dropped and he slammed a hand over his mouth, looking at his best friend with an inconsolable expression. “Hands,” he whispered, almost to himself. He reached over and flipped each of Kyle’s palms outwards, swallowing a thick chunk of vomit trying to work its way up at the sight of his mutilated skin. He remembered vaguely of when he and Kyle were eleven and found themselves wondering if their lifelines would match up. They’d found they did and promised to die with each other, on the same day at the exact same time so neither of them would be sad without the other. Now Kyle’s lifeline was replaced by raised, deformed markings. Stan would never know if their lines ever grew to different lengths as time went on, and it broke his heart.  
  
“What does it say, Stan?” Cartman urged irritably.  
  
He took a calming breath and gently grabbed Kyle’s hands, reading each word softly, “‘ _servum sempiternum_ ’.”  
  
“How’d he fit that last one on a hand?” Kenny tried to joke, instead choking on a sob and shaking in his place.  
  
Cartman took a deep breath, “‘Eternal slave’,” he muttered, slamming the laptop’s screen down and staring at it underneath his palm. “Shit,” he grumbled. “That faggot claimed his Jew ass.”  
  
Stan glared at him, “Just because h-he put words on Ky doesn’t mean-”  
  
“He’s the fucking _Devil_ , Stan,” Cartman reminded him sharply. “Kahl didn’t just end up with a psycho in the woods, he ended up with someone who could do whatever he wanted to him. I doubt that he did all this just for appearances,” he gestured up and down Kyle’s body.  
  
“But...but what did he _do_?” Stan gaped, blue eyes searching over the pale flesh frantically as if the answer would magically appear on Kyle’s torso.  
  
“Laid claim to him,” Kenny murmured, complete rage building inside of him. At Damien for doing this, at himself for giving Damien a perfect victim. “He said he was going to make Kyle his and...and he did,” a tear wormed down his cheek and he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.  
  
“Very good, McCormick,” a thick, disturbingly familiar voice appeared behind them. They whipped around and found Damien grinning at them brightly, his eyes brimming with mischief. “Long time no see,” he greeted them.  
  
“You _fucker_ ,” Stan snarled, going to pounce before Cartman grabbed him and held him back. Cartman’s sharp eyes could catch the gleam in Damien’s own, knowing that a wrong move would send all of them spiraling to the ground.  
  
“What?” Damien shrugged innocently, waving his hand and the three of them were pushed by a gust of power towards the foot of the bed, barely managing to stay on their feet. The demon’s clawed fingers went and stroked Kyle’s face, looking at him fondly. “I brought him back, didn’t I?”  
  
“You brought him back mutilated!” Kenny spat. “What did you do, Damien?!”  
  
Damien grinned with malice, continuing to watch Kyle with half-lidded eyes. “I let my soul seep into him, that’s what...” he looked up into their horrified faces and chuckled darkly. “You were right, McCormick, he’s a feisty one. Two years and my soul _still_ hasn’t taken him over...completely at least. Enough for him to be my pretty little obedient fuck toy though.”  
  
“YOU FUCK!” Kenny screamed, going to lunge at him before Cartman snared his collar.   
  
“Stop, Kinny,” he hissed. “You attack him and you die, you dumbass.”  
  
“The fat one is very smart it seems,” Damien smirked. “Besides, what good would attacking me do at this point, McCormick? Kyle’s already mine after all,” he ran his fingers through his sweat-licked ember locks.  
  
“He’s _not_ yours,” Stan growled furiously. “You can’t fucking control him!”  
  
“Ah, but I already have,” he cocked an amused brow. “I say suck my cock and he drops his mouth like a good little slut. I say bend over and he shakes his ass in the air for me and just _takes it_ ,” he grinned widely at the absolute animosity overshadowing the boys’ faces. “Took quite a while to get to that point but...everyone has their breaking point,” he shrugged with a quiet laugh.  
  
“Is _this_ why you brought him back?” Ken sneered, feeling Cartman’s grip tighten on his arm. “To tell us how much of a sick fuck you are?!”  
  
He waved dismissively, “No. I just believed it was time to make my pet as happy as he’s made me these past two years. I’m allowing him some time back on Earth while I attend to other business.” He paused and looked back at the redhead, “Besides. He’s not going to be able to go anywhere without me knowing. He’s my property. He can’t escape me.”  
  
“We’ll get him away from you, Damien, you piece of shit!” Kenny screeched through clenched teeth.  
  
Damien let out a heavy guffaw, “Oh really? Do you see these markings?” he gestured over the boy pointedly. “They were part of a millennia old ritual, one that’s only been used once by a demon under my father.” He grinned, “It’s an eternal binding of souls. That particular demon still has his mate bound to him after thousands of years. Kyle can’t get out of this deal. His blood mixed with my own sealed the contract, and his soul is slowly but surely losing the battle against mine,” he pet the boy’s head. “Besides, he knows his rightful place, he knows who he belongs to. He’s learned.”  
  
Cartman scoffed, “Because you fucking brainwashed him. Not because his Jew ass actually gives a fuck about you.”  
  
Damien rolled his eyes bemusedly, “Perhaps. But either way, let me tell you this: the only way to break the curse is to find a way to kill me...” he paused, letting their minds begin whirring with ideas before laughing at their lack of subtly. “But if you kill me,” he jerked his head towards the bed, “Kyle goes, too. And I don’t mean sentenced to Hell. I mean he gets sent into absolute nothingness beside me for all eternity. Our punishments would be one and the same since our souls are intertwined, so he’d be suffering right alongside me. If that’s what you want for your friend, then be my guest,” he challenged, raising his brow.  
  
Stan shook and clenched his fists furiously, “You sick fuck.”  
  
“Come now, I brought him back,” he repeated. “And I waited until you three were here to wake him up. I’m sure he’d love to see your faces. He missed you all so, even Tubsy over here,” he waved aimlessly at Cartman. “Told me he’d rather deal with you and you alone for ten years before letting me touch him again,” he chuckled. “Ah, how his tune has changed.”  
  
The three of them growled, watching him with narrowed eyes. Fists shook and bodies started to tremor nearly out of control, Cartman’s grip still tight around the two loose cannons in front of him. Their minds were all spinning, wanting nothing more than to leap across the room and rip the demon’s head right off. But they knew better. It could end badly for them and even worse for Kyle.   
  
“Wake him up then,” Kenny spat. “I want to know if that’s really Kyle or a fucking doll or some shit!”  
  
Damien snorted, “Please. Like I’d let someone have a copy of my pet. And you don’t make copies of something so beautiful, it makes it seem less so.” The word made each of them cringe, seeing how disgustingly obsessed with Kyle the demon was. Kenny and Stan looked at each other helplessly, tense and wanting so badly to fight for Kyle’s life.  
  
The demon grinned at them before turning back to Kyle with burning ember eyes, his fingers tousling in his curls. “Rise and shine, my little phoenix,” he cooed. “It’s time for you to re-grow your feathers.”  
  
Kyle’s body lurched a bit and began quaking. “ _M-master?_ ” he whimpered out, his voice so hoarse and raspy. The boys’ hearts sank at the title, each of them unable to believe they’d head Kyle of all people refer to someone like that. God knows Cartman tried for years, but Damien apparently had the strength to break even someone like Kyle Broflovski, a seemingly impossible task.  
  
“That’s right,” Damien grinned. “Wake up, my Kyle. I have a surprise for you.”  
  
Thin brows furrowed before cinnamon lashes fluttered against his pale cheeks. His mouth dropped open slightly, eyes trying desperately to fight their way open. He focused on the ceiling hazily and frowned in confusion. “Master, where am I?” he whispered.  
  
“Why, home, my phoenix.” he pet his head before scooping down under him and sitting him up, holding him by the back of his neck. “Look, I’ve even got your friends here to say hello.”  
  
Kyle squinted at them, as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Kenny squinted right back, staring into that deadened gaze. “What...what did you do to his eyes?!” he finally yelled at the noirette. The pools of jade were now surrounded by a thin rim of bright red, standing out disturbingly clear even in the limited lighting of the bedroom.  
  
Damien smirked, “A part of me is inside of him,” he reminded the boys. “On Earth, even if I’m here, he’s technically disconnected from me since he’s away from Hell. So he gains certain attributes that reminds him just who it is he belongs to.” He grinned at Kyle and kissed his temple, cupping his chin gently. “Who is it you belong to, Kyle?”  
  
“You, Master,” he replied blankly, still staring in awe at the three at the foot of his bed.  
  
“And what are you to me, my Kyle? Tell your friends.”  
  
 “Your whore,” he looked over at Damien, remembering that he needed to lock his focus on the man before things went terribly wrong.  
  
Stan let out nothing short of a sob, “Kyle...Kyle no...you’re not his...” he couldn’t make the words come out. Every bit of this was wrong. It was like his worst nightmare come true: Getting Kyle back but not his Kyle. Not the one that punched him in the face when he stole his hat to tease him. Not the one that held his hand and told him it’d be okay when Wendy dumped him for the umpteenth time. Not the one that he watched beat the living shit out of Cartman when the brunette finally stepped on his last nerve. This Kyle wasn’t his super best friend. He didn’t know who he was looking at.  
  
“So very good,” Damien praised, petting his hair softly. “Kyle, you’re going to stay on Earth for a bit, do you remember me telling you this?”  
  
 “Yes, Master,” he nodded slowly.  
  
“And you remember your requirements for _staying_ , do you not?”  
  
“Yes,” he whispered, biting his lip. Damien grinned, leaning over and kissing him deeply. He could feel the boys’ stares cutting into him angrily, Kenny’s blue eyes in particular blazing with a ferocious agony that practically filled the room. The demon just chuckled, relishing in the feeling of hate that was wafting around him. He pulled back, licking Kyle’s lips a final time and smirking.   
  
“What did you swear to be while you’re here?”  
  
“Your good little whore,” Kyle said slowly, his face burning in fluster.   
  
“Good boy,” he murmured, tracing his bite marks with his thumb. “I’ll be back often to check on you. Behave, my phoenix.”  
  
“Yes, Master,” he nodded.   
  
Damien grinned, standing up and looking at the three disgusted figures in front of him. He crossed his arms, feeling Kyle’s eyes still locked on his face. “Well, I do hope you enjoy my generosity,” he said thickly. “Kyle is back with you and you heard his small requirement. Stay out of the way of his obedience and it’ll be nothing but roses,” he raised his brow in devious delight. “So long,” he waved with his fingers before sinking into the ground.  
  
They all watched the spot before Kenny, Cartman, and Stan looked back at Kyle. The redhead was quaking, his red and green eyes darting around confusedly. His lips were moving, silently mumbling in panic. “Kyle?” Stan said softly, beginning to creep towards him. He moved his hand towards his shoulder, his heart dropping when Kyle flinched violently. “Oh God, Ky,” he blubbered.  
  
Kenny walked over beside Stan, bending down to Kyle’s eye level and staring at the different eyes with a tightening chest. That gorgeous green was still there, but the devilish red offset it entirely, made it so the world knew that these weren’t Kyle’s eyes. He looked so frightened, so small. Something that Ken grew up knowing that Kyle was not. “Kyle...” he whispered, very lethargically reaching his hand down and grasping the boy’s. He swallowed his bile at the feeling of scars under his fingertips but pressed through. “Kyle, you’re home now,” he assured him. “You’re safe with us.”  
  
“D-Damien...” he strangled out, looking at the three of them in terror. “Where...I want...”  
  
 “What? What do you want?” Stan breathed slowly, trying desperately to control his rapidly rising emotions.  
  
His voice cracked and he sobbed a few times, his hand limp in Kenny’s hold. “I want...D-Damien...”  
  
 “Jesus fucking Christ,” Cartman watched the boy with a dropped jaw. “I didn’t think the Jew could break this fucking hard.”  
  
“He’s not broken!” Kenny insisted, a little too loud he learned as Kyle squeaked in panic and recoiled into himself. “Shhh, shhhhh,” he tried to comfort the shaking redhead, looking at Stan in complete loss.   
  
“What do we do?” Stan asked in a shaky whisper, watching Kyle, heartbroken, as the boy fell into violent sobs. Tears began streaming down his reddened cheeks in a way Stan hadn’t seen since they were in first grade and Kyle broke his leg when Cartman pushed him off the top of the jungle gym. They all stared at him in shock for a bit, so unused to him being so fragile.  
  
Kenny clutched Kyle’s hand just a tad tighter, rubbing his thumb over the thin skin and stared at it, a furious frown set upon his face. Under the sound of Kyle’s hysteric crying he managed to mutter out, “I don’t care if Damien owns him or not. We’re going to get _our_ Kyle back.”  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter stars the portion where each chapter will go between flashbacks to Kyle's imprisonment and present day. A few chapters down the road will start the week counter for the present day. Sometimes the order of the two will be switched, but you'll always have the header so you're not thrown off. Thanks for reading!

  
  
**One year, seven months, 17 days ago - Day Four**  
  
He couldn’t breathe. The entire aura surrounding him was stifling and heavy. He managed to work a shallow gulp down, nearly sobbing in the process as the movement caused his bite mark to throb excruciatingly. He had no idea how long he’d been chained up on his knees, how long that damning blindfold had been tied taut around his eyes. His bare legs had been asleep for what felt like an eternity. His arms, fastened on either side of him and stretched to their limits, weren’t faring any better. Covered eyes were heavy and sunken with utter exhaustion; warm, wet tears constantly welling to try to numb the pain. His throat was hoarse from screaming out into the darkness, completely unaware of if anyone was even in the vicinity to hear him.  
  
His head lolled back and he convulsed in a few staccato cries. He wanted food, water, he wanted to go home. This was completely unwarranted. Damien hadn’t said a damn thing to him after he finished carving him up, he merely told a couple of his demonic buddies to bind him and leave him be. His cuts were stinging, burning in complete agony. He hadn’t the slightest idea of how he’d managed not to die from it all, wondering if being brought to Hell meant that he’d actually died without his knowledge.  
  
His head fell back forward and he groaned, trying to shift his body weight and hissing as his legs screamed in anguish, pins and needles turning into knives. He could feel his wrists torn from their confinement, his right very obviously sprained from his struggles against his captors. The heavy metal shackles surrounding them were pulled taut, letting his skin sing in choruses of pink rawness. He tried flexing his left fist and groaned angrily, feeling a warm stream falling down his palm. He’d ripped open a wound _again_. It happened nonstop, he didn’t know what to do to be able to prevent it. Being chained as he was didn’t exactly make for the easiest of ways to rest his weary body. Of course, a part of him was absolutely terrified of what he’d see were he able to look at himself. He could feel the multitude of carvings, the burning sensation of where Damien’s blood tattooed onto his chest. He knew it would be bad, probably worse than it felt if that was even possible.  
  
His ears perked at the sound of a door opening, the first sound he’d heard since he’d been chained. He looked in the direction of the noise, straight ahead of him. He gulped and winced once again as the door genially closed, echoing around the boy. Slow, heavy footsteps walked over to him, he could feel the heat of someone standing just a few inches away. The steps began to purposefully walk around him in a circle, no doubt eyeing just what had become of Kyle’s shaking form. He tried to make words come out, unable to work them out past the lump in his throat. It was too quiet. He managed only to let out a soft, scared whimper and the figure laughed; A deep, throaty tone that soaked into Kyle’s being and made him shudder.  
  
The blindfold was peeled off of his face, his head limply following its path and falling back again. He tried to open his eyes to the room, unable to make them cooperate with him. He groaned in frustration, furrowing his brows and biting his lip, willing himself to see his adversary. Finally, after what seemed to take hours, green pools emerged into soft, red lighting surrounding him. He squinted, hearing the figure behind him but not having the energy to look towards them. He surveyed his prison: a plain, stone room. Nothing that he could see but rock and soft orbs of that damning red light floating around him.   
  
“You look beautiful enveloped in red, my Kyle,” the figure purred. A chill racked its way through to Kyle’s core at the familiarity of the reverberation and he gulped.

  
 “L-let me...go,” he managed to finally work out, nearly terrified of how raspy his voice had come out.  
  
“No, no I don’t think so,” Damien chuckled, walking to the front of him and staring down at the boy with a sly grin. “How is my pet today?”  
  
“Fuck you!” he coughed, his anger suddenly beginning to spike above the limits his tortured body was attempting to set. “I’m not your...your fucking pet!”  
  
“Ah, but you are,” the demon grinned, cupping his chin and forcing him to stare up at him.  
  
Kyle bared his teeth, trying to ward off his exhaustion and pain and fight back. “You fucking _pussy_ ,” he seethed. “What do you want with me?!”  
  
Damien’s thumb stroked over his cheek, gently and with great care, something that sent Kyle’s body into a furious flurry of panic and rage. “I have made you my own,” he said simply.

   
“No, you haven’t!” Kyle screeched, beating down the pulsing in his throat and barreling through. “You think I’m going to just be your fucking servant? You can suck my fucking balls!”  
  
Damien’s smile became wide, glinting in the red lighting with a ferocious hunger that sent Kyle’s stomach towards his numbed knees. Everything about this situation was wrong, but something about that look sent his nerves completely over the edge. Damien bent down towards his face, licking over his fangs and chuckling sardonically. “Actually, that will be _your_ job,” he said smoothly.  
  
Kyle blinked, trying to back away, hissing as his sprained wrist screeched at the movement. “I-I don’t...what-”  
  
“You are going to be my little whore, dear Kyle,” he stared at him with half-lidded eyes. He brought up his other hand, stroking through the sweaty mess of Kyle’s hair and watching him begin quaking uncontrollably. “I brought you here to be my pretty plaything.”  
  
“Ex-fucking-cuse _me_?!” Kyle stared at him, horror beaming through his widened, bloodshot eyes. “Take me home! Now! This isn’t funny!”  
  
“Not meant to be,” he shrugged dismissively. He continued fondling Kyle’s face and the redhead growled, shaking his hands off and panting angrily.  
  
I will _never_ be your fucking sextoy!” he snarled. Damien stared at him, completely entranced by the firm green gaze set upon him. It was something beautiful and defiant he had never experienced before. Everyone had always done exactly what he said for fear of the repercussions. But Kyle? He probably would have already been attacking him were he not chained. It made Damien practically ache with lust, the heady scent of Kyle’s contempt all around him.  
  
He smirked, “You think you get a choice, little Kyle?”  
  
“You can fuck right off, you sick bastard,” he scowled. “Let me go home _now_.”  
  
He snorted, “And just _how_ do you plan to make me do that, my little prisoner? I have you chained,” he shook the link holding Kyle’s sprained wrist for emphasis, listening to his forcefully subdued cry of pain and shuddering. “What does one’s dog do when they’re chained, little Kyle? They stay and be a good boy, don’t they?”  
  
Kyle gave a cocky half-snort of a laugh. “Maybe some fucking little bitch dog, but I’m a fucking bulldog and I’ll break your fucking chains. You think I’m scared of you?”  
  
Damien raised his brows in delight, forked tongue darting over his lips eagerly. The boy was much more lively than he expected despite four days of complete isolation. He couldn’t help but feel utter glee that he hadn’t already broken the redhead. He yearned to watch him suffer slowly under his thumb. He tilted his head and grinned slyly, “Then do it, little bulldog. Make me regret bringing you down here if you’re so tough.”

  
 Kyle huffed, knowing full and well that he couldn’t make his body exert the strength it so desperately needed to rally up. His face became reddened as he saw Damien waiting expectantly. “Just let me go, you fucker. Take me back to Stan and Kenny and leave me alone.”  
  
“Ah, thinking of your friends, hm?” he smiled. “Thinking of the most valuable assets of your previous life?”  
  
“No,” he frowned. “I’m thinking of the most valuable assets of my _current_ life. You fucking kidnapped me and cut me up, big fucking _deal_. You think that that makes it so I’m not the same person? You’ll _never_ control me, you fucking faggot so you better just let me go and save yourself the fucking trouble.”  
  
Damien let out a low, husky chuckle, snaring Kyle’s chin again and delving his claws into the pasty flesh. “And that’s what’s so wonderful about bulldogs,” he grinned. “They’re a bitch to train, but once you get through to them, they’ll be your loyal pet for the rest of their lives.”  
  
“You can’t train me,” he narrowed his eyes.  
  
Damien grinned amusedly, holding out his free hand, a glass of water materializing in his palm. Kyle’s eyes focused on it, salivating, his tender throat begging for him to taste the sweet nectar inside. “Now,” Damien said cooly. “I suspect you would like some of this, yes?” Kyle stayed silent, but set his lips firmly and nodded briskly in Damien’s hand. “Good little doggy,” he cooed, feeling Kyle tense angrily at the term. “Now, if you want this so badly, then you need _only_ to say that you are mine.”  
  
Kyle glared at him, “I would rather die of thirst than say that, you bastard.”  
  
The demon snorted, “You cannot die, my pet.” He shook the boy’s head a bit and watched him stare at him in confusion. “You harbor parts of me now, a portion of my soul,” he licked his lips. “You cannot die, but you _can_ suffer. You can be brought to what you believe is the brink of death time and again. I can bring you to that edge where you think that sweet release will set you free...” he leaned closer and breathed heavily in his face. “But it will _never_ happen. You will stay bound and in pain for eternity should you not be my good little bitch. Am I clear?”  
  
Kyle’s face fell in horror, his jaw subtly trembling under Damien’s touch. His rancor spiked back and he growled ferociously. “YOU FUCKER! LET ME GO!” he screeched hoarsely, trying to thrust his abused body around in a fit of rage. Damien watched with a hungry, gleaming smile as a long scream of anguish fell out of the redhead, his mutilations splitting back open at his struggling. The blood trailed down his body in beautiful streams of red against his alabaster skin. It was a lovely sight; Tears starting to fall down the boy’s face, his entire expression scrunched in agony and anger. Kyle fell forward limply in his holding, gasping for air, twitching at the caustic attack of pain.  
  
“Hm,” Damien mused, wiping a bit of condensation from the side of the glass and flicking it onto Kyle’s nose. “Bad dog,” he said quietly.  
  
“I’M NOT YOUR DOG!” Kyle screamed between cumbersome sobs. “You...you sick son of a bitch!” He opened waterlogged eyes down towards the floor, watching his lifeforce seeping down his body onto the dark stone, blending into an inky, dark lake of mahogany. Kyle couldn’t help but shudder, seeing the color of Damien’s eyes in the puddle.  
  
Damien grabbed his chin once more and smirked, “You are, though, my lovely Kyle. You’re my _bitch_. And bitches must be properly trained less they run from their masters.”  
  
“What did I do to you?!” He pleaded. “I-I haven’t even seen you since we were nine! I didn’t even know you were still...” he lost his voice in a crack of emotion, feelings throwing him out of balance with himself.   
  
“My reasonings are my own,” he hummed, tilting his head all around and staring at the fragile being clutched so tightly in his grasp. Humans had always been so interesting to the demon; So weak and yet so resilient. Kyle was certainly no exception to the rule. He cocked a smile, letting his face go and dipping his thumb into his vat of water. He saw Kyle’s eyes widened in desperation; An endless forest of pain and determination. How much Damien wanted to cut it down nearly winded him, barely able to contain himself as he watched the redhead’s pupils follow his stirring digit.   
  
He pulled it out of the glass, letting the liquid drip down his thumb and he chuckled. He suddenly propelled his thumb forward, shoving it between Kyle’s lips and teeth, prompting a surprised whine out of the boy. Kyle barely held back a sob as Damien traced his digit over his dry tongue, only making the prisoner crave more, only making him nearly break on the premise. His enmity, however, would not let him follow through. He raised his jaw, bringing it down quickly onto Damien’s invading source. His teeth dug into pearl skin, grating against bone. He heard Damien’s nearly inaudible hiss and felt a surge of power in the situation, shaking his head like a rabid animal, trying to take off the thumb from its owner. He snarled, tasting blood trickling into his mouth and nearly grinning in victory before a powerful slap across his cheek sent him reeling, flying to the side and stretching his sprained wrist painfully. He panted, head resting against his shoulder. A soft cough escaped him, gathering up what little saliva he could manage and spitting out the demon’s blood. It didn’t taste right. It tasted too heavy, like a sour mold. Kyle couldn’t help but wonder if inheriting part of Damien’s soul made his the same way.  
  
“Bad, **bad** dog,” Damien repeated, shaking his head. He scoffed as Kyle looked up at him from the sides of his eyes, glaring exhaustedly from his shoulder.   
  
“Fuck you,” he whispered, shutting his eyes and shaking his head from its twisted position. “Fuck. You.”  
  
Damien couldn’t help but stare at his injured thumb, the deep teeth marks left in the flesh. He sighed contentedly, his eyes pulsing as the skin stitched itself back together. He looked back at his pet, gazing up and down his naked body longingly but shaking himself out of his stupor. That would come later.  
  
He held the chilled glass over Kyle’s head, pouring it onto his red tresses and watching the boy yelp in shock at the frigid change. His bangs matted down against his forehead, sticking to the waxy skin like curls of blood. Kyle’s pride quickly died off for a moment, pink tongue darting around his lips and what he could reach of his face to bring some hydration back to himself. Damien watched in a self-satisfied trance at the boy trying so desperately to bring himself back to life. The escaped remnants of water trailed over his lithe body, running through his cuts on his hips and turning the trails a pale pink. Damien’s mouth dropped a bit in breathlessness. The boy _shone_. His body glistened like a beacon, calling the demon’s name. But he once again shook himself off. Patience. Taming a dog was all about patience.  
  
“Such a shame,” Damien said cooly. “Had you been my good bitch, you would have had all that water for yourself. Perhaps I would have even lessened your chains to let you lie down. Such a shame,” he repeated, watching Kyle’s shining face slowly raise up to his.  
  
That frown returned and the demon’s stomach flittered. “Hate to tell you, but I’m a stubborn motherfucker,” Kyle hissed. “If I can’t die, then I guess I’m just going to wait this out until you get bored and send me back home to find another guy to torture.”  
  
Damien traced a claw up this throat and clipped his chin. “Trust me,” he licked his fangs, “I will wait thousands of lifetimes for you if that’s what it takes.” Kyle’s determined face faltered for only a moment, but it brought a twinkle to scarlet eyes. “But I will have you broken _long_ before then, my pet.” He turned, feeling Kyle’s confused and anxious gaze locked on his back. “I suppose since you refused to cooperate, you really aren’t suffering that much,” he said placidly with a shrug. “I’ll return in a week and we’ll see just how strong your reserve is by then, my pet.” Kyle watched him, throat caught in silence, his green eyes wide and concerned. Damien stole once last small glance before stepping out and slamming the door, letting the lights he created burn out and leaving Kyle engulfed in complete isolation once again.  
  


* * *

  
  
**Present Day**  
  
“Come on, Ky,” Kenny said softly, helping him off the bed, Stan on his other side. Kyle’s legs faltered beneath him, so unused to being able to move freely. He’d been kneeling for Damien for far too long, he felt as though supporting himself took more energy than he could possibly muster. Stan’s strong arm caught under him, gently clasping around his waist. The noirette cringed, feeling Kyle’s ribs poking out under his hand. He began to shake, watching with Kenny and Cartman as Kyle’s dulled eyes wandered around his room.  
  
Kyle looked towards the floor and they followed his gaze. His eyes were locked on the basketball. Kyle tongued over his lips. “Us...Damien...Here...” he pointed to the floor in front of them with a weak hand.   
  
Kenny’s eyes welled and he nodded. “Yeah, Kyle. That’s where Damien...” he shook his head and cleared his throat. “Come on, let’s...let’s getcha downstairs, hm?” he smiled weakly. “Your mom, dad, and Ike are waiting for you.”  
  
A hint of life flashed through him, “Ike?” he whispered.   
  
Stan nodded, himself and Kenny slowly helping him walk out of the room, Cartman following close behind. “Yeah, Ike,” he said softly. “He’s missed you, Ky. We all did.”  
  
“Ike,” he repeated in a trance, letting the boys lead him through the hallway, glancing around at the familiar layout of the house. His hand automatically flew to the hand-railing of the steps past Kenny, staring down them blankly.   
  
“One at a time,” Kenny coaxed, supporting him under his shoulder as they slowly made their way down the steps. Kyle nearly cried at the weight being pressed onto his feet, trembling in utter exhaustion. “We gotcha, we gotcha,” he cooed.  
  
“Jesus fucking Christ it’s like teaching a baby to walk,” Cartman muttered.  
  
“Shut up,” Stan said subtly, trying like crazy not to lose his control with the anxious boy next to him.  
  
They finally made it to the foot of the stairs, Kyle practically leaning on Stan and Kenny. They looked up, seeing Kyle’s family still talking to the doctor. Kenny cleared his throat and they looked over, all of them jumping to their feet.  
  
“BUBBELEH!” Sheila cried out, rushing towards them. Kyle let out a terrified scream, falling back into Cartman’s feet before Stan and Kenny could catch him, curling up and shaking, watching her with widened, horrified eyes. “Kyle, Baby, what’s wrong?” she asked in panic.  
  
“You have to be slow,” Kenny put his hand on her arm. “He’s really...messed up,” he bit his lip, hating the fact that he had to admit that out loud. “Slow and quiet,” he dropped his voice.  
  
Sheila nodded slowly, her eyes welling with tears as she stared at her son. She dropped to her knees haltingly and held out her hand. “Kyle, Bubbeleh, it’s Mommy,” she said softly. “I won’t hurt you, Honey.”  
  
Kyle sniffled, still darting his eyes over her like a trapped mouse, a frail arm raised up in meek defense, displaying his markings and letting his mother see the full effect of what had been done to her little boy. He looked up, seeing Stan and Kenny and staring at them helplessly. “It’s okay, Kyle,” Stan nodded. “Its just your mom, I promise.”  
  
He timidly gulped, looking back at her and grating his lip. “Not...Damien?” he rasped.  
  
“No, no I’m not, Bubbie,” she assured him, forcing down her imminent sobs. “Baby, I’m going to make you better, I promise.” She stared at him with such a willingness, such a palpable helplessness about her, it sparked something within the redhead. Something so small, but so familiarly tangible he could feel it rushing through his toxic veins.  
  
“Ma...” he whimpered out in a subtle squeak, gradually working himself up off of Cartman’s calves and crawling over to her. He slowly wrapped his arms around her torso and she did the same, hiding her face in his shoulder.   
  
“Oh, Kyle,” she finally broke, clasping onto him and heaving in sobs. “Baby, it’s going to be okay,” she promised him. Kyle lied his head down on her shoulder as well, staring off distantly at the wall. His eyes were hazy and muddled, filled with such overwhelming confusion he didn’t know what to do with himself. A part of him didn’t want to believe what was happening, that he could be wrapped in his mother’s arms again. He felt as though it were a trap, he was going to get too comfortable in this false reality and Damien was going to snatch him back and punish him for feeling any sense of happiness. It’d happened before, and it could happen so easily again.  
  
He pulled back and Stan reached down, having Sheila do the same. They stared at each other for a bit, Kyle studying her face brokenly. He reached up and touched her cheek, soaked with tears. He rubbed the solution through his thumb and forefingers, looking at it with a cocked head. It felt so _real_. He glanced back up with glassy, shy eyes. “Ike,” he pleaded.  
  
“Right here, Ky,” Ike genially made his way over towards his older brother and kneeled down beside their mom. “You okay?”  
  
“Hair...different...” Kyle frowned, his jaw quaking. He reached up, grabbing a bit of Ike’s hair, now cut short against his scalp.  
 “I cut it,” Ike assured him, letting his fingers slide through the locks. The boy frowned, it used to be long and bushy, thick and wavy atop his younger brother’s head. What if Damien just got this detail wrong? Kyle’s hand went up to his own curls, feeling the difference as Ike and Sheila watched him confusedly with heavy hearts.  
  
“Ky?” Kenny kneeled down beside him and whispered. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“Not...Damien...” he managed to breathe out, relinquishing both of their heads and letting his hands fall limply into his lap, his fingers loosely curled against one another. He glanced over at Kenny, red and green scanning over the blonde curiously. “Sure?” he asked timidly.

  
 “I’m absolutely sure,” he promised with a nod. “Kyle, you’re home. You’re safe,” he assured him. He slowly placed a hand on his exposed arm, his breath hitching at the subtle flinch under his touch. They all paused, hearing Kyle’s stomach loudly growl.  
  
“Are you hungry, Honey?” Sheila asked softly. Kyle blinked at her, nodding a few times. “What do you want? You can have _whatever_ you ask for.” His brow furrowed in loss. He’d eaten nothing but table scraps for years. Whatever Damien felt was appropriate enough depending on his behavior was given to him whenever he was done himself. Requests just didn’t _happen_.   
  
His default response tumbled out of his lips, “Whatever I’ve earned.”  
  
“Oh god...” Stan shook his head, looking away from his best friend, unable to stand what was happening in front of him. Sheila and Ike looked on the verge of tears again. Kenny looked up to see Gerald softly asking the doctor what they could do to help the poor boy.  
  
“How about Philly Cheesesteak Pizza?” Kenny shook him a little bit. “It’s your favorite, remember?” Kyle stared at him and just nodded. He didn’t care. He just wanted to be allowed to eat.  
  
“I’ll...I’ll go order it,” Sheila nodded, leaning forward and kissing Kyle’s forehead. “We’ll fix you, Bubbie. I promise.” He just stared at her, his eyes following as she gently got to her feet and went towards the kitchen.  
  
“Wanna go sit on the couch, Ky?” Ike asked softly. Kyle just shrugged and the Canadian dropped his dark eyes to the floor, trying to hold himself together.  
  
“Ike, it’s okay,” Stan patted his back. “We’ll fix him.” He and Kenny both helped Kyle up to his feet, leading him over to the sofa and slowly sitting him down. Kyle practically melded into the cushions, unable to believe that comforts like it still existed. Gerald and Ike both took either side beside him, gently touching his arms and staring at him, looking for the right words to express to him. Stan, Ken, and Cartman watched from behind the coffee table, each of them also unable to figure out where to go from here.  
  
“What do we do, Doc?” Cartman mumbled, staring at Kyle’s still-shaking form.  
  
Barash sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Keep coaxing him through the days, surround him with familiarity, and find him a therapist. That’s all we can do for him at this point. This is going to be a very long healing process. I’ve never seen someone so...closeted.”  
  
“Well he was held hostage for two years, of course he’s closeted,” Stan managed to work out smoothly, letting Kenny’s hand rest on his shoulder to keep him from losing himself and punching the man’s lights out.  
  
“I’ve worked with others in his situation before,” the doctor said tiredly. “I know it’s been two years but...he’s lost speech. He couldn’t recognize his own mother. Something happened that’s trying to prevent him from remembering who he is.”  
  
The boys looked at each other before staring back at Kyle, who was limp against the cushions, looking out for the count once again. “He’s so tired,” Ike muttered, grabbing a throw from beside them and tossing it over his brother. “God, he looks like Death itself.”  
  
“Mr. Broflovski,” the doctor directed at the paled Gerald. The man looked over at him with glassy eyes. “I’m going to give you the number of a psychologist, and you need to make Kyle an appointment immediately. We need to get whatever’s in him _out_.”  
  
“Of course,” Gerald nodded, getting to his feet slowly so as to not disturb his slumbering son and shaking the man’s hand. “Thank you, Doctor.”  
  
Stan, Cartman, and Ken looked at each other, each with crossed arms and a marred look on their faces. They could spill the truth right then and now. They could tell them that there was no way that any amount of therapy was going to save Kyle from what was coursing inside of his fragile being. But they knew better, hope was the only thing that got the Broflovski’s and themselves from losing it the last two years, diminishing what little they had left would be nothing short of catastrophic all around.  
  
Absent from the noise, completely devoid of any hint of a dream, Kyle slept, curled against the couch with steady breaths. He felt warmer than he had in a long time, he felt an overwhelming sense of belonging as he felt the hug of the blanket around himself. The contentedness was never meant to last. From the darkness of his subconscious, a smooth, devious tone filled his ears and brought his anxiety back to a full throttle assault: “ _I do hope you are enjoying my gift to you, my little phoenix. Tonight you will begin repaying it._ ”  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Day 11**  
  
He didn’t know it was physically possible to feel like this. Closing his eyes was a nightmare, the idea of sleep fleeting through his delusional mind before he suddenly snapped awake as he fell in his bindings. Never before had they burned so badly, his body constantly trying to keep them moistened in the darkness of his confinement. He could no longer feel his arms or legs, and he couldn’t help but question whether that was a curse or a blessing. The feeling was surreal, as though he were nothing but a head floating in unconscious space. He could be for all he knew, he hadn’t been able to keep a straight thought in days. His stomach was screaming, feeling as though it were clenched in a vice, the pain doing nothing more than being another distraction from sleep. The sound of his own breathing terrified him, even in his hallucinogenic state; it was disgustingly raspy, like the guttural, hungry grunts of the demons that had taunted him upon his capture.  
  
Only two thoughts were stasis in his agonized brain; His mantras against his torment: ‘ _Kenny and Stan will rescue me’. ‘I am **no one's** pet_ ’. They were the only pieces of solace he had, just waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for his captor to waltz back through the door and see what had become of him in the last week.   
  
Kyle tried to lick his dried lips, whimpering as the thin skin cracked and broke, a small dribble of blood escaping down his chin. He tried cracking his neck, the tense muscles screeching at him not to move, but he knew he had no choice. He had to or he’d never be able to move it again once he got out of his chains. He gritted his teeth, forcing his head to each side, hearing a large pop from his spine and letting out an airy yelp of pain, letting himself droop forward and pant. His eyes showed him precious lies, warbles of pinks, blues, and greens dancing across the vast black space of his dungeon. He watched their performance, entranced before a breath caught in his throat, sending him into a dry, rough coughing spell. His entire body pulsed with each escape of air, the pain in his pounding head nearly insurmountable. It took maybe only a minute, but each cough felt as though it took an hour as he finally settled back down, sweating profusely at the exertion and sniffling.  
  
That creaking noise he’d heard a week beforehand invaded his ears once again and he looked up confusedly. A sudden burst of several orbs of light suddenly broke and he _screamed_. It was as though someone were taking a needle and diligently scraping out his pupils, each nerve singing with anguish. The watering of his eyes became a torrent, falling down his reddened cheeks in warm streams.  
  
“My poor pet doesn’t appreciate that, hm?” Damien’s voice drafted over him. He shuddered, letting his pain run its course before slowly creaking his eyes back open. The image of the demon in front of him was fuzzy and distorted, the only clear feature he could make out being the glowing promise of Damien’s eyes. He could see the figure moving towards him, looking over with squinted eyes to see him touching his arm. He couldn’t feel him and it made him all the more enraged. “My oh my, little doggie,” Damien cooed, observing Kyle’s twisted right wrist, now a deep purple and angled uncomfortably in his chains. “You seem to have made a mess of yourself in my time away, haven’t you?”  
  
Kyle’s mouth opened, trying to let his words flow out. The dryness of his throat rendered him silent, so he opted for glaring as much as he could possibly muster. Damien grinned down at him, stroking his numbed arm. “I guess now neither your bark nor your bite is sufficient, my bulldog, isn’t that right?” Kyle shut his eyes again, clenching them tightly and directing his face towards the floor.   
  
“Uh uh uhhh,” Damien taunted, slapping his cheek sharply. Kyle’s torso jolted at the movement, his bloodshot eyes finding Damien’s, seeing that fang-riddled grin so prominent. ‘You keep your eyes on me, my pet. Do you understand?”  
  
Kyle growled from his aching vocal chords, baring his teeth and shaking his head, looking away from the demon. A strong hand cupped his chin and forced him back forward, Damien inches from his face. “You will _listen_ to your master,” he said cooly. “Or you will be punished.”  
  
The redhead forced his voice up, the pain pulsating through him only pressing forward his anger. “Not...Master...” came his abraded, whispered rebellion. “Not...Pet...”  
  
“Hm,” Damien quirked his brow, smiling and tilting the boy’s head around. “Astounding. Over a week alone, no food, no water, no sleep, and you _still_ don’t want to listen to me.” He chuckled and shook his head amusedly. “McCormick was right. You’re stubborn, my pet.”  
  
The mention of Kenny got Kyle’s eyes shining, his mantra sparking him with renewed hope. He’d be saved. Stan and Ken would _never_ let Damien keep him. He weakly tried to back out of Damien’s grasp, only being pulled forward once again.  
  
Damien smiled, running his fingers through Kyle’s curls, now swamped down against his pounding head in a mess of sweat and oil. “Beautiful,” he murmured. The word sent a chill down Kyle’s spine, his fleeting, overridden mind trying to pick up why it felt so wrong. That was a nice word, right? He groaned in discontent and the demon chuckled. “What is it, my pet? What is it that you want? You can tell me.”  
  
Kyle blinked at him exhaustively, starting to lose himself in his confusion of the situation. “Let...go...me...” he managed to croak out brokenly.  
  
“Never,” he promised, twiddling with the curls still. “Would my doggie like some food and water?” he grinned evilly. Kyle remained silent, barely able to nod in the boy’s hold. Damien shrugged, “If you do, then you know what you need to do.” Kyle stared at him in befuddlement, completely lost as to his meaning. Damien took notice and grinned crookedly. “I suppose you’re far past the point of processing thought, hm?” he taunted, tapping Kyle’s temple pointedly. “If you recall, you need _only_ to say that you are mine, and you will be rewarded. Another act of disobedience, however, and you will stay like this another _month_ before I give you this option again.”  
  
Kyle’s green eyes sparked with a mess of desperation and defiance. He knew he wouldn’t die if he kept this up, that his body was probably already at its limit. But it hurt. God did it _hurt_. He needed to move, he needed to be able to breathe without wanting to crumble in pain. The redhead gritted his teeth as harshly as he could, trembling in Damien’s hand. He knew the way out of the pain, he knew what he would have to do. But damn it all if the mere _idea_ didn’t make him want to swallow himself whole. He knew better, though. Another month like this? It wouldn’t end well. He wanted to sleep, to drink. He _needed_ the reprieve. He knew deep down that his humanity was still fighting to hold onto him, still made him susceptible to any kind of torments Damien would bestow upon him. He coughed softly, feeling his head throb at the propulsion and he griped under his breath.  
  
“Well?” Damien challenged. “Spit out your choice, my pet.”  
  
Kyle took a long, shuddery breath. He would have to lie through this. He would have to just let Damien have this one victory. Just enough to sate him to give Kenny and Stan time to save him. He’d just have to stall the demon long enough. “...Yours,” he whispered brokenly, feeling his pride snapping bitterly at the utterance.   
  
The spite only grew as Damien’s grin grew wider. “Once more, my pet?” he cooed.  
  
“I’m...yours...” he seethed through clenched teeth.  
  
“Good boy,” he praised, looking nothing less than tickled with himself. He waved his hand dismissively and Kyle blinked before falling forward, unable to stop himself as he crashed onto the stone ground. His relinquished arms fell to either side and he bemoaned at his inability to move them. He managed to turn his face onto its side, looking up tiredly at Damien standing above him cockily. He could feel his legs slowly tingling back to life and he sniffled, knowing full and well that there was a lot more pain heading his way. Damien knelt down beside him grabbing a fistful of Kyle’s hair and ripping his head upright. “Such a good, good boy,” he sighed happily. The redhead just grunted at the stress on his roots, letting Damien move him about like a marionette. He had to play along, had to stall...  
  
“Good dogs get their rewards promptly,” Damien promised, waving his hand and directing Kyle’s head in that direction. The boy narrowed his eyes as a puddle of water appeared before him and a small pile of what looked like scraps of meat and bread. “Had he been a good boy before,” the demon drawled, “he _might_ have gotten to eat from a plate. But now, you’re going to eat from the floor like the dog that you are,” he cocked his brow. Kyle shook with anger as he started to be drug towards the messes on the stone, his useless limbs trailing with him. Damien tossed his face down into the puddle and he gasped, turning his head again and letting his sweating face ripple through the liquid bliss. “Drink,” Damien commanded. “Drink like a good dog.”  
  
Kyle frowned viciously, glancing down at his blurry reflection beneath him before his hair was snared once more. Damien pointed his head down to the puddle and urged him towards it. “Lick it up, Puppy,” he said smoothly. The redhead shuddered, knowing well enough he didn’t have a way out of this one, not with his legs and arms completely out of commission. He beat away his complete humiliation, knowing that it was worth it to be able to breathe again, to have strength to fight again. He sighed, darting his tongue out and dragging it through the puddle, the cold water attacking his dry muscle in a heavenly song. The gritty stone beneath it gave him little discomfort, so much more focused on the wonderful nourishment he had been promised. He tried curling his tongue enough to get it to travel down his throat, only succeeding in it falling off the corners of his mouth. He groaned, trying again. And again, only able to coat half his tongue and gather a few sweet, savory drops to trail down his throat.  
  
“Does my pet need help?” Damien asked after watching the boy struggle a good few minutes. Kyle nodded defeatedly, watching as Damien held his hand out, his palm filling with clear nectar. “Then you will drink out of Master’s hand,” he said, holding his palm to the boys lips. “And should you use your teeth again, I will make sure you lose them,” he promised. Kyle gulped, knowing well enough he wasn’t facing an idle threat, not with this maniac. He allowed his teeth to part and the side of Damien’s hand to fall into his mouth, tipping him back and letting the water rush down his mouth and throat. The sudden introduction of the chill seemed to spring Kyle back into life for a few moments, ignoring the pain that swallowing caused him and relishing in the moment of tranquility. Damien repeated the process and Kyle begrudgingly accepted the demon’s hand as his savior for the time being. Kyle could already feel the difference, the way that his throat was beginning to properly expand and contract, the tightening of his chest lessening in the slightest. It was a wonderful feeling, to know he was still alive, to know that he still had a chance to fight his way out.  
  
“Now,” Damien started as Kyle finished off another handful of his generosity, “Why don’t you eat?” he positioned Kyle’s limp body over beside the pile of food, keeping his head upright. Kyle couldn’t help himself and rolled his eyes, letting Damien dip his head down, taking a piece of meat in his teeth and chewing, wincing at the stringiness. He cringed, realizing from the texture that he was eating pure, raw beef. He couldn’t help but wonder if Earthly ailments like Salmonella would affect him. It didn’t matter at this point though, he had to give himself some nourishment or he’d never be able to make it out. He swallowed it down with a shudder, allowing Damien to keep moving his head to and from the pile, grabbing beef and bread pieces with his aching jaw and forcing himself to just accept where he was. His pride could be rescued later, his body came first.  
  
“So very good,” Damien praised, petting through his hair with his free hand. Kyle sighed to himself, letting his mind run rampant with distorted visions of stabbing the demon, of strangling him to death with his chains. He couldn’t deny that the images brought him a feeling of comfort, even in his dank prison.  
  
Kyle realized halfway through his food that he couldn’t eat another bite, frowning confusedly. Had his stomach shrunk that much in so little time? He bit his cracked lip in concern. This ordeal was going to destroy him if he wasn’t careful. Alive or not, he wouldn’t be able to move on his own. Damien could do whatever he wanted to him, a thought that made the redhead bristle considering what he now knew to be the demon’s intentions.  
  
“So,” Damien drawled, his voice taking on an irritated tone that snapped Kyle into consciousness. “You believe you can strangle me with your chains, hm, my pet?” Kyle blinked, his jaw dropping slowly before he was sent flying across the prison, landing on the stoney floor in a jumbled heap. He said a silent thank you that his limbs couldn’t be felt, knowing that he landed awkwardly on his ankle. He looked up as Damien approached him, resisting ducking his head into himself. He couldn’t let Damien win everything. He couldn’t let him know there was a legitimate fear growing inside his gullet. Damien stared down at him, looking like a disappointed father more than anything as he shook his head and tutted his tongue. “Good dogs don’t wish ill will on their masters,” he smirked. “They’re loyal,” he knelt down and grabbed the curls at the back of his head, forcing him up towards him.  
  
Kyle stared at him, narrowing his eyes. “Unless you’re abusive,” he croaked out. “Then they bite you and run.”  
  
Damien raised a surprised brow. “Well, I wasn’t expecting you to gain speech back so fast.”  
  
“You underestimate me,” he smirked snidely. “And to answer your question, I’d _love_ to watch you choke to death.”  
  
The demon let out a long, sadistic chuckle. “My oh my, such a feisty little doggie I have.” Kyle scoffed, trying to force his body up, groaning as he realized that it wasn’t happening. His arms and legs gave him only sparing tingles, but it was enough; Enough to let him know he hadn’t lost them completely. He jolted as Damien leaned in close to his face once more, the both of them staring each other down darkly. “I’m very impressed with you, little Kyle.”  
  
“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he challenged.  
  
Damien laughed and nodded. “I look forward to seeing what you can do,” he purred. Kyle just grunted in acknowledgement before the boy waved his hand once again and Kyle looked down at a clattering sound, finding his wrists once again ensnared in chains jutting from the walls. He rolled his eyes and Damien scoffed. “I am giving you a wonderful gift, little Bulldog,” he said lowly. “Despite your poor attitude towards your master, I am allowing you to sleep.” Kyle looked up at him, silent as the red eyes scanned over his aching, glistening body. “Oh, and I have another gift for you,” Damien smiled deviously, holding out his hand. Kyle watched as a thin, black band appeared in his palm, taking a moment for his tired mind to recognize it as a collar. He sneered, trying to back away before Damien lunged forward, pressing the leather against his adam’s apple, tightening the strap around his throat snugly. Kyle growled, thrashing his head around, trying to rally his arms to punch Damien in the goddamn face. Damien pulled back, admiring his handiwork. Kyle snarled furiously, trying to tuck his head down into his neck and tear the damnable thing off with his teeth. “You may want to reconsider that, my pet,” Damien cocked his brow. “Should that collar come off by your hand, you will be chained as you were before, and you will _never_ sleep again, do you understand me?” Kyle stopped short, slowly looking up at the demon with fury sparking through his tired eyes.   
  
Damien smirked, “Good boy. Get some rest,” he finished, turning on his heel and walking towards the front of the room. He looked back at Kyle still watching him and chuckled softly. “You’ll learn, little Kyle. The only way for _you_ to be happy is if you make me happy,” he said before walking out of the room, the lights dissipating around the redhead once again. He blinked exhaustedly, lying his head down onto the stone floor and closing his eyes. This was fine. He could sleep. He could figure out how to regain control of his limbs from this position. He just needed to figure out how much lying he could get away with and how much he could fight against with Damien’s orders. He knew he could, he was too stubborn to let Damien think he’d won just yet. He was going to be _fine_.  
  


* * *

  
  
**Present Day**  
  
There was little else to do for Token on a Saturday night at three A.M. aside from scouring the internet in hopes of finding something to suit his boredom. His eyes dully flickered over his screen, debating whether or not he should buy that collection of comics for him and the guys to share. It was well over a thousand dollars, but for a box filled with the books, it’d be more than worth it. He let himself keep debating, ignoring a sharp chill that ran over his spine. The new air conditioner was probably all that was. It’d been giving them problems the last few weeks anyway.   
  
Out of nowhere, he heard a soft murmuring begin and paused his shopping, turning around and glancing around his room confusedly. The sound kept going and he glanced to his monitor, muting the computer to see if it was another goddamn Viagra ad. No such luck, the murmurs continued. He frowned, getting to his feet and continuing to look. It sounded like it was coming from inside his room of all places. His ears perked as clear words entered the fray: “ _Tenebrae tegant mortale accidat_.”  
  
“The fu-” he started before the lights in his room flickered off, his computer doing the same. He panicked slightly, looking around the darkness confusedly. He waited for the backup generators to start, more than bewildered when he didn’t hear them. He glanced towards his door, noticing the hall’s nightlight still shone under the crack. He narrowed his eyes. Did he blow a fuse somehow?  
  
“ _Ut eum se rutilo ignorantiam_.” Token blinked once again before flinching as his mind seemed overrun with a hazy cloud, his steps beginning to waver slightly. His confusion melted away, slowly walking towards his bed and sitting down atop it, looking around the blackness surrounding him almost giddily. A dream. It was a _dream_. He smiled in relief, looking over as something began to seep into the room through the wall. He stared at them as they moved, thin trails of bright, neon color slithering over his floor like spilled ink, beginning to amass into a single form. He watched, engrossed as a thin redhead popped into his view, smiling sweetly.  
  
“ _Kyle?_ ” he breathed out, blinking in confusion. The boy was glowing. He had a yellow haze surrounding him in a warm aura. Token couldn’t help but notice, however, the lack of scars on his frail, naked form. He’d gone to see the returned boy earlier that day. He knew well enough just how damaged he’d been. But here he was, clean, and seemingly healthy. His ribs weren’t nearly as prominent, his skin glowing with renewed energy. His eyes were full and round once again, though Token took note of the glowing ring of red trying to overshadow the green. “Why are you...” he tried, his mind trying too hard to make sense of it all, sending him into a deeper spiral of loss, the concept seeming all the more nebulous. “Is this a dream?” he whispered, watching Kyle walking strongly towards him. A gentle hand cupped his chin and the redhead nodded.  
  
“It is,” he said, his voice smooth and full. Nothing like the rasped mess Token had heard from him mere hours beforehand. Kyle stared into his dark brown eyes, that sweetness that had always been a part of him before his capture lingering in the stare, calming Token’s heart.  
  
He nodded, “It must be,” he whispered tiredly, dark lashes beating down. “You don’t look like you’re dying.”  
  
Kyle nodded, still scanning over his face. He brought up his other hand, cupping the other side of Token’s face and holding his gaze. “Token,” he started, an airy breath about the name that made the older boy shiver, “ _Indica mihi etiam cupiditates mecum_ ,” Kyle ordered, the red of his eyes glowing brightly.  
  
“Huh?” Token blinked before his mind overrode itself with images of himself fucking the boy in front of him. He jolted a bit, wondering where they were coming from. He’d never thought of that before, never _once_ had he looked at the redhead before him and wanted a piece to himself. But now, he could barely handle himself as the images flashed through, beginning to quake uncontrollably as he felt Kyle’s delicate hold on his face still. The touch nearly _burned_ it was so intense, every nerve was on edge, every ounce of reasoning was quickly receding and he grabbed Kyle’s arm, stroking over the skin with his thumb and staring at the creamy flesh. He looked up into those green eyes, swimming in the glow of his body and becoming entranced. “Why...are you here?” Token managed to work out through the tightening in his throat, his lust reaching a critical point that was threatening to knock him over.  
  
“For you to do with as you wish,” Kyle replied tenderly, letting his hand drop down, cupping the bulge in Token’s pajamas. He smiled sweetly, leaning forward and whispering into his ear, “I guess there’s a _lot_ you wish to do to me.” He reached in down past his waistband, nipping on Token’s ear as he grasped around the blazing skin waiting for him. Token took a long, shuddery breath, his conscious quickly being beaten down. This was a dream. It was a weird one, but it was one that he wanted to happen.  
  
He grabbed the redhead and rolled him onto the bed, pinning him down underneath him. Kyle looked up at him, such an innocent stare about him that it threatened to drive Token to the brink of madness. Kyle bit his lip shyly, a blush coming over his cheekbones and Token trembled, forcing himself between the boys legs and grinding down onto his naked cock. “Never...thought you’d be so...shy,” Token chuckled, leaning down and biting Kyle’s exposed neck.  
  
“I’m whatever you desire most,” Kyle replied quietly, arching himself back up against the thin fabric of Token’s pajama pants.   
  
Token groaned and pressed him back down, leaning up and nibbling on Kyle’s lip a bit. “Didn’t know I had a thing for you.”  
  
Kyle smiled, letting his thighs cinch around Token’s hips as he rutted down against him. He tongued over his lips, his eyes dark and shining. “Seems to me like that’s changed,” he purred. Token smirked against his skin, quickly fumbling to throw his pants off of his legs to the side of his bed. Kyle gasped as their naked cocks ground down against each other, the friction and heat weighing heavily against one another. He reached down, tentatively grasping Token in his hand, muttering soft words under his breath. Token nearly asked what he was doing before he felt Kyle’s palm become slick with a warm lubricant, easily gripping around his dick and pumping him steadily.  
  
“Holy fuck,” Token gasped, letting his hips delve down into the slicked cave Kyle’s hand formed for him. Kyle watched him, that tempting grin still on his blushing face. His free hand went to stroke up Token’s broad chest, letting his nails dig into the skin lightly and drag his way down. Token shook his head against Kyle’s neck, chuckling. “I don’t think so, Mr. Innocent,” he growled. “Touch yourself.”  
  
Kyle blinked before nodding, re-murmuring his words to slick his other palm, worming his hand down to grab his own slowly-rising cock. He let out a shuddery breath as Token ripped his dick out of his grasp, leaning over the pale boy and staring at him with intense dark eyes, half-lidded in his dreamy state. Sharp green eyes studied the expression and he tongued over his lips, “What are you going to do to me?” he asked naively, batting his cinnamon lashes against his rosy cheeks.  
  
“Jesus,” Token shuddered at the words, nearly losing himself right there. “I’m gonna fuck you,” he promised, running his fingers through the lube on Kyle’s freed hand, smothering it around the digits and watching the redhead carefully. He poked his finger down into the tightness waiting for him, entranced as the boy lurched a bit, his hand still steadily pumping himself. Another two fingers followed right in after, and Token couldn’t help but smile greedily as Kyle took them with no arguments, just letting his face contort cutely in discomfort. “Look at you take it,” he muttered, thrusting along inside of him, becoming unraveled with impatience to get his cock into the tight heat surrounding his fingers.   
  
Kyle whimpered softly, pressing back against his invading digits, his free hand coming up and clenching into Token’s sheets. He bit his lip, watching the hungry stare of the boy looking down on him becoming more and more ravenous. He knew better. He had a time limit for himself, not to mention he had to get this going before Token became too consumed and ended up hurting him. “Fuck me,” he begged softly, bringing his hand down and reaching towards him desperately. “Token, please.”  
  
The boy above him stopped his fingers, smile growing wider as he moved himself back between Kyle’s legs. He ripped his fingers from Kyle, watching him jolt a bit in the loss. The redhead watched him carefully as his hips were propped up, Token rubbing his cock over his entrance lightly. “Tell me what you want again,” Token said in a gravely tone.  
  
“Please, fuck me,” he let out airily, gritting his teeth as Token began pressing himself into his ass. Kyle threw his head back, grunting quietly as the hot skin continued sliding into his body, filling him to the brink and still going. Token’s balls smashed up against him finally and he took a few heavy breaths, his mind whirring with the difference between Token and Damien’s cocks. It was bizarre, he noticed, how well he could tell the difference. He had little time to compare however as Token began thrusting into him.  
  
Kyle moaned, leaning his head back, his hand still pumping on himself as he looked at the ceiling. Token came overtop of him, one hand secure on his hip and the other pressed onto his mattress to keep him steady. Kyle couldn’t help his curiosity, looking up at the man using his body. He’d never been fucked like this before. He’d always been pushed with his face on the floor, he had no idea how different the world looked on your back. He could see every line of concentration on Token’s face, every swipe of the tongue over a sweating upper lip. It enticed the redhead. He reached up, grabbing onto Token’s strong shoulder, groaning quietly with every push into his body.  
  
“Damn,” Token panted. “You’re tight.” Kyle blushed, opting to just let his body do the talking for him in that circumstance. He bucked his hips up against Token’s rhythm, letting his propulsions slam him back onto the king-sized mattress. His nails dug into Token’s shoulder, pulling him in closer as his orgasm began creeping up on him, feeling overly full of emotion as he watched his body being used to the boy’s desire.   
  
Token seemed to take notice, smirking self-righteously, “Gonna cum?” he asked. Kyle just nodded briskly, his thin fingers clenching around the dark skin underneath his touch. “Well then do it,” he demanded, watching the boy with his eyes firing in passion, gazing up and down Kyle’s lithe, luminous body and grating his lip in hunger. He almost didn’t have enough of Kyle. He wanted all of him.  
  
Kyle whined out, his hand working quickly on himself, feeling his body stretching to accommodate Token warmly. He whimpered softly as he felt himself cutting closer and closer, painfully near what he was searching so desperately for. “Come on,” Token urged, feeling himself becoming nearly animalistic as he increased his pace, slamming Kyle back into the bed with little to no fear of the repercussions.  
  
The redhead jarred back and forth along his speed, the sensation overwhelming, caught somewhere between pain and pleasure that he couldn’t read. He hissed sharply, letting out a long cry as his body finally caught up to him, the swelling in his stomach finally releasing itself and splashing onto his stomach in a long stream of milky white. Token watched with interest, the way that the pale fluid clashed against his porcelain skin and he licked his lips. Kyle slumped exhaustedly, letting Token continue pushing into him as his hands fell to his sides. He watched the boy’s face carefully, panting and sweating. He could see Token drawing closer to his edge and took a shuddery breath. He had to push it further.  
  
“Token,” he begged innocently. “Please. Cum inside me...please,” he breathed out so gently Token nearly didn’t hear it over the sound of his hips slamming into Kyle’s tender ass.

Token shuddered and leaned down against the boy, chuckling. “As you wish,” he growled, hitting into him faster, not paying any mind to Kyle’s pained, subdued groans. He was overcome with heady, irrefutable lust. He’d never felt anything like it, like he _had_ to make Kyle his own. He _had_ to keep it going and make the redhead remember just who it was he was dealing with. His end crept closer and he grunted, reaching his hands up and grasping Kyle’s hair, twisting calloused fingers through the wild curls, using them to pull him down against his cock. Kyle let out an airy, pained scream, his eyes watering at the action. But Token didn’t hear. He couldn’t hear anything except the immense heat flowing through his system; His heart pounding wildly out of control, his blood rushing through him desperately.  
  
Kyle felt him on the brink and shot his pained eyes open, grasping Token’s face and breathing out heavily, “ _Hoc animae pertinet ad dominum meum!_ ” Token paid little mind to whatever the redhead was spouting out as he lost himself to his pleasure, continuing to pound away as he released himself deep inside of Kyle, his hair tightened in his fingers in a death grip. Kyle’s glowing red eyes locked onto Token’s face, dark brown eyes beginning to glow as well, unbeknownst to the boy still reeling.  
  
Kyle watched as Token’s eyes pulsed, a sudden surge of energy slamming into the redhead. He lurched up in shock, his body lit anew by the assault. Token’s relentless pushing came to a grinding halt and Kyle watched him, panting, his eyes still beaming red. Token’s eyes dulled as he exhaustedly pulled out of the redhead, trying to say something before collapsing on top of him. Kyle grunted, pushing the boy off of him and onto the other side of the bed, scrambling to sit up. He watched him carefully, his eyes narrowed in concern. He let his fingers trace his neck, ridiculously relieved when Token’s pulse still crept through him.  
  
“He won’t die,” a dark voice emerged. Kyle looked over to see Damien standing there, watching him with a proud smile. The demon walked over towards him, running his fingers through Kyle’s frazzled hair.  
  
“Master...” Kyle panted, looking down at Token for a brief moment before gazing back into Damien’s eyes. “W-what did I do?”  
  
“Exactly what you were _meant_ to do, my Kyle,” he murmured. He grasped Kyle’s left hand, grinning at a new marking appearing on the skin. Kyle followed his gaze, his face dropping in horror as what looked like thin, black veins creeping down from the back of his middle finger down to his wrist, spread along the skin like ivy vines.  
  
“What is that, Master?” he whispered in fright.  
  
“Your progress,” Damien chuckled, releasing his arm and pulling him up onto his feet. Kyle nearly stumbled in shock, not used to being allowed to stand with Damien. He ran his tongue over his lips and stared at the unconscious boy on the bed.  
  
“He’ll be all right?” Kyle asked softly.  
  
Damien pet through his hair, watching the redhead with a grin. “He’ll be fine. For now at least.” He paused, looking at Kyle’s glowing form and nearly sighing in disappointment. He remembered taking Kyle when he still looked like this. Like a strong, healthy young man who could have fought him at any time or place. He knew that no mortal body is ever meant to stay that way forever, however. He just helped push Kyle’s imminent frailty along. “Come now, Little phoenix,” he cooed. “Your vitality incantation will wear off soon. I’ll take you home.” He offered his hand out. Kyle looked at Token one last time before grasping Damien’s hand back, clinging onto it tightly. Damien cocked his head at his concerned face, “What is it, my pet?”  
  
Kyle looked up at him, his red and green eyes filled with worry. “You’re sure he won’t die?”  
  
Damien snorted, petting his head lovingly. “I always forget how kind you are to others,” he murmured, kissing his forehead tenderly. He stroked Kyle’s still-flushed cheek and the boy sighed.   
  
“I did it right, Master?” he asked meekly.  
  
Damien nodded, looking at Token before gazing back onto his pet. “You did excellent,” he assured him. He dragged his thumb down through Kyle’s cum still appreciable on his stomach. He smeared it along the redhead’s lips, kissing him briskly and chuckling darkly against the mess. “Such a good boy.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All phrases here will be defined later in the story, no worries =u= Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Present Day**  
  
The three of them sat in a room far too clean for the situation at hand. Stan and Kenny looked around at the pure white walls, the crisp smell of a chamomile air freshener wafting around them in pure distaste. The only thought they could seem to conjure in the tidied space was ‘this better work’. Kyle sat staring down at his covered legs blankly. He didn’t know why he was here. He didn’t know _where_ he even was. All he remembered was his mom and dad telling him that Stan and Kenny would take care of him, that they wished they could go; That he was going somewhere to get better. He couldn’t help but wonder in his tired state if that meant he was going to see God. If He was going to help him find a way out of his master’s hold. But he knew better than that. He knew he was just biding time on Earth until Damien came back for him.  
  
“Kyle Broflovski?” a voice called out. The three of them looked up at a kindly woman smiling at them from a door down the room. “He can see you now, Hon.”  
  
Kyle backed up a bit in his seat, biting his lip nervously. He didn’t know this woman. He didn’t know why she was being so friendly. It could so _easily_ be a trap. Kenny took his hand softly and smiled at him, “You want us to come with you, Ky?” He nodded softly, his eyes flickering between his friends. They slowly helped him up onto his feet, biting their lips as they watched him struggle to walk. The both of them shot glares at other people seated in the waiting room staring at the poor boy. Kyle’s eyes beaded with pained tears, his lip grated between his teeth as he continued to wobble about his way. They finally made their way through the door with the kind brunette, who patiently led them down a long hallway. They finally came to a door at the end and she let them inside. Kyle took a look around, squinting at the soft lighting, an array of chairs and a couch arranged in a circle.  
  
“He’ll be in in just a few minutes,” she promised, shooting Kyle a compassionate grin before pivoting and walking out, leaving the three of them awkwardly standing in the doorway.  
  
“Where do ya wanna sit, Kyle?” Stan asked. The boy shrugged, busy staring at large collection of books sitting in the corner. He narrowed his eyes at the titles, words like PTSD, borderline, and anxiety jumping out in bold colored fonts. So many terms he knew, so many that he used to be able to spout the definitions of in his time in high school. Now? Now he was amazed he could still read them. Stan and Kenny led him to the couch, tenderly turning him and helping him take a seat, each of them taking a side. “Whaddya think he’s gonna ask?” Stan murmured to Kenny, looking at the room a bit with Kyle.  
  
“I don’t know,” he shrugged, his eyes stuck on the redhead. He cocked his head a bit. “Ky? You too hot?” he questioned, noticing the layer of sweat on Kyle’s forehead. Kyle shied down, staring at his jeans once again and nodding. The blonde looked at him sympathetically, moving to help unzip the boy’s jacket. “Dude, you don’t need to be embarrassed about that,” he coaxed, slowly working the jacket off and laying it on the back of the couch.The redhead just sighed, looking at the words carved into his arms and hands. He was so tired. He could only vaguely remember what he’d done with Token just a few nights before, but he knew something wasn’t right. He turned his left arm, wondering just where the black veins had gone to. Was it just a dream?  
  
His pondering came to a jolted stop at a knock before a familiar face peeked in through the door, smiling at the three of them. “Well, well, well, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you three in an office.”  
  
Kenny and Stan blinked, “Mr. Mackey?” Stan asked.  
  
He chuckled, nodding and stepping into the room, closing the door behind him. “Finally moved on up in the world, m’kay?” he winked. He paused, looking at Kyle staring at him like he’d seen a ghost. “Hey there, Kyle,” he said softly. “Remember me?”  
  
Kyle remained silent, just watching him confusedly as he took a seat across from them. The man seemed so familiar. Why couldn’t he place it? Stan cleared his throat, “He uh- he doesn’t talk too much, Mr. Mackey.”  
  
The man nodded, scribbling something down on a notepad. “Kyle, can I ask you a few questions? You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, m’kay?” Kyle nodded shyly, tongue passing over his cracked lips at the word that rang like a bell through his clouded mind. “Do you know why you’re here, Kyle?” The boy shook his head, red and green flickering to Stan and Kenny worriedly. Mackey smiled gently, “You’re here because someone hurt you, Kyle. We’re going to make it okay again, m’kay? Do you want to feel better?” Kyle nodded, vaguely wondering if Damien was watching him, if he’d approve of his responses. Mackey looked at Stan and Kenny, “Boys, what happened?”  
  
Kenny cleared his throat, gently putting a hand on Kyle’s knee. “He -uh, he was kidnapped by the son of Satan,” he winced. Mackey raised his brow a bit before nodding for him to continue. “And...and that was almost two years ago. Damien brought him back but...he’s not...himself anymore.”  
  
“Well that’s pretty obvious, m’kay,” the man looked at him unamused.  
  
Stan sighed, “He really messed him up, Mr. Mackey. He can barely walk, he can’t shower without us or Ike having to help him,” he paused, noticing Kyle flinch a bit at Ike’s name. He ran his fingers through his dark hair and continued, “He can’t talk well...he doesn’t even remember how to use silverware,” he frowned. “And the only people he seems to remember are the two of us, Cartman, and Ike. Everyone else he kind of just...blocked out.”  
  
Mackey cocked his head, “Even his parents?”  
  
Ken nodded, “Yeah. When he woke up, his mom went to hug him and he screamed like she was going to hurt him.” He glanced over to see Kyle looking guiltily at the floor.  
  
The man nodded slowly, writing the spiel down. “M’kay...” he paused and looked up at the redhead. “Kyle?” he waited until the red and green hit him and he gulped, starting to fully believe what Ken had revealed to him from his irises alone. “Can you tell me about Damien?”  
  
Kyle blinked, “He’s my master,” he rasped out. Stan and Kenny looked away and shook their heads, both on the brink of tears once again.  
  
“Why do you think that, Kyle?” he pressed.  
  
Kyle narrowed his eyes slightly in befuddlement, “B-because...I...belong to...him,” he worked out.  
  
Mackey leaned forward a bit and watched him concernedly, “Kyle, you don’t belong to anyone but yourself, m’kay?”  
  
He shook his head. “I belong to Damien.”  
  
“Oh boy,” he murmured under his breath, leaning back and watching the boy a bit. He shifted his glance to the other two, watching them try to hold themselves together at Kyle’s words. He knew well enough the two of them had been struggling with Kyle gone, he’d heard the rumors circulating like crazy that they never left the library in hopes of figuring out how to get to him. He just never imagined getting him back would bring them so much grief. “Why do you think you belong to Damien, Kyle?” he continued.  
  
The redhead couldn’t look more lost, as though Mackey had just asked him for the color of the sky. “He...he takes care...of me,” he bit his lip. “I’m his...”  
  
“You’re his what?”  
  
“His pet,” he finished. “A-and whore.”  
  
Mackey’s jaw dropped slightly before he quickly recovered and cleared his throat. “M’kay, Kyle. But Damien’s gone now, m’kay? You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”  
  
“He’s watching...” he croaked out. “He’s my master,” he repeated.  
  
The man sighed a bit and pursed his lips in thought. “Do you _miss_ him, Kyle?”  
  
The question stopped Kyle in his tracks, his heart beginning to pound wildly out of control. He started breathing ridiculously heavy, feeling his scars throbbing with each pounding of his pulse. Did he? All he could think about was Damien, how the man would react to everything he did. How he would punish him if he spoke too much. How he would coddle him for every right answer. He couldn’t figure out for the life of him if that meant he missed the demon or not. “I...I...” he blinked, feeling Stan and Kenny watching him intently. “I belong...with Damien,” he finally worked out brokenly, feeling tears welling in his eyes. They trailed down his cheeks without his knowledge, sniffling disjointedly.  
  
Kenny sighed, placing his hoodie sleeve over his hand and gently wiping off Kyle’s moistened face. He looked over at Mackey defeatedly. “We can’t get him to stop saying that.”  
  
The man nodded, “Well it’s only been a few days, Kenny. This is gonna be a long road for Kyle. But he needs his friends now more than ever, m’kay? If he only remembers you, Eric, and his brother, then you four are the ones he needs the most.” Stan and Ken nodded, looking at each other with heavy faces and even heftier hearts. They knew what this would entail, it would be so much more than they or Kyle should ever have to deal with. But they knew well enough if one of them was in the redhead’s place, he’d be doing nothing but being a constant wall of support. They couldn’t let him down; Not now, not ever.   
  
Kyle stared off away at the wall, his mind littered with images of his master scolding him for being so emotional, for not answering Mackey’s question promptly. He sniffed, wondering if he’d be punished for it at a later time.  
  
“Ky, you’re really tense,” Stan noted, rubbing his arm.  
  
“What’re you thinkin’ about, Kyle?” Mackey urged.  
  
“Master,” he whispered, his eyes locked on the beige wall.  
  
“What about him?”  
  
“I’m...bad...” he bit his lip, looking down shamefully. “ _Bad dog_ ,” he whispered nearly inaudibly.  
  
“ _Oh god_ ,” Kenny bemoaned quietly, putting his face into his palms and shaking his head. Stan quickly wiped away beginning threads of tears, still rubbing the broken boy’s limb. Mackey followed his hand, staring intently at the visible scarring on the pasty, scarily thin flesh. He bit his lip and sighed. He didn’t think he’d have to deal with this kind of trauma, not in South Park. Not from a former headstrong student that he’d watched outsmart, outtalk, and outfight anybody who got in his way. He’d seen some pretty gritty stuff in his time in this office, but nothing nearly as heart-wrenching as the scene in front of him.  
  
“Kyle,” the man caught his attention again. “Do you wanna tell me what Damien did to you?”  
  
The boy sniffled and shrugged, “He...taught me...to...” he coughed a bit and shuddered at the stress he was putting on his throat. This was way too much talking, he hadn’t been able to say this much in so long, he nearly didn’t know what to do. “To be good,” he finally finished.  
  
“M’kay and how did he do that, Kyle?” he urged, a bit afraid of the answer himself past what he could already see done to him.  
  
Kyle stared at him. “Told...what...I...” he coughed again, breaking into a full-fledged fit and letting Kenny pat his back to get it out. Stan pulled a water bottle out of his pocket and handed it to the boy.   
  
Kyle just looked at it until Kenny sighed, “Kyle. You can drink it.” Only then did he allow himself to genially lift it up and take a few grateful sips. The blonde looked at Mackey exhaustedly. “He won’t do _anything_ without permission. Took us an hour to figure out why he was just staring at his food when he first woke up...” he trailed off and shook his head, taking the bottle back from the now calmed-down Kyle.   
  
“From the way he’s talking about Damien, I’m guessing food and drink were a reward system, m’kay,” he muttered, scribbling down more notes, realizing that his writing was getting more frantic as their session went on. He almost didn’t know how to tackle this. He was trained for trauma, but this went above and beyond what he’d dealt with in the past. He certainly couldn’t get a consultation from a doctor who’d worked with victims of the Devil. He looked up at the redhead, who was nervously weaving his fingers in and out of each other and took a deep breath. Someone had to help him, there had to be some way to get the old Kyle back out. “Kyle, tell me about where you stayed when you were with Damien.”  
  
He cocked his head slightly. “M-my room?”  
  
He nodded, “M’kay and what was in your room?”  
  
He blushed and shrugged shyly, “A...door,” he winced. “And...my...chains...” he tongued over his lips, looking up thoughtfully. “It was dark a lot,” he whispered.  
  
“He chained you up?” Mackey asked, his heart lurching.  
  
He nodded, “When I...was bad,” he said.  
  
“What happened when you were good?” he questioned.  
  
He smiled softly, something that sent all three of them into a bit of a nauseated fit. “I got...to sleep,” he said innocently. “A-and eat...and drink...and I didn’t have to...wear...my collar,” he shrugged.  
  
“Collar?!” Kenny repeated in a forced soft squeak. “He made you wear a collar?!” Kyle blinked at him and nodded confusedly, as though that were the most commonplace thing that could have happened to him. ‘ _Gonna kill him_ ,’ Kenny mumbled under his breath, redirecting his attention towards the ground in pure fury. He didn’t know how, but he was going to do _something_ to get back at the bastard.  
  
Mackey cleared his throat a bit awkwardly, “Do you like your room at your house better?” Kyle looked up at him and shrugged. “M’kay, do you like being back with your family?” he tried again. A subtle nod this time from the redhead. He ‘hmmed’ a bit. “Kyle, what’s your favorite color?” he asked. Kyle blinked before shrugging once more. “What’s Damien’s favorite color?”  
  
“I don’t know...” he said softly. “He likes...me in red lights...” he trailed off. “A-and my hair...” he reached up and gently tugged a curl.  
  
The man nodded, “So you only wanna talk when it’s about Damien, hm? Why is that?”  
  
Kyle smacked his lips a bit, “H-he’s my master,” he repeated himself.  
  
Mackey sighed, looking at his notes and at the clock on his wall. Only a few minutes left, and he had no idea where to go from here. He looked back at the redhead and forced a kind smile on his face. “M’kay I think we made some progress here, Kyle.”  
  
“We did?” Stan cocked his brow.  
  
“Yes, we did,” he raised his brows at Ken and Stan. He put his focus back on Kyle, “Can ya come see me again next week, Kyle? We can talk about Damien more, m’kay?” Kyle nodded silently and Mackey tapped his pencil on his clipboard, staring at him intently. “We’re gonna figure this out, m’kay,” he promised him. “Kyle, we’re going to get whatever Damien put inside of you out.” Kyle just stared with wide, bewildered eyes at his words and the man couldn’t help but feel a pang of helplessness.  
  
He was in this for the long haul. Now he just needed to figure out where to start.  
  


* * *

  
  
**Day 31**  
  
“Godfuckingdammit,” Kyle muttered, staring up at the black void above him. He felt the puddle of water appear beneath his hand, biting with cold and he sighed, dragging his palm through the liquid and slowly licking it off his skin. His eyes had lazily adjusted to the darkness of his prison, not that he had much to look at. What little of the door he could make out, he knew there wasn’t any kind of handle. In his rested state, he could pick up the smell of a sharp metallic sensation, figuring well enough that the door was pure iron, the same as his damn chains. He knew that he wasn’t going to just be waltzing out of there anytime soon.  
  
He shifted uncomfortably on the stone, wanting desperately to rest on his stomach but knowing that would do nothing more than re-open his wounds. He frowned, knowing that they were going to scar over something horrible. The boy wondered vaguely how much cosmetic surgery would cost once he got back on Earth. His fingers went to scratch under the band of his collar, wanting once again to tear it off in a fit of rage. But getting to sleep had been wonderful, even if a stone floor was the most unforgiving mattress he’d ever had the displeasure of dealing with. His mind was back to its keen self again, and he was more than aware of how the clearer he could think, the more of a chance he had to get himself out of Damien’s hands.  
  
He couldn’t help but wonder where the hell Damien had even been. He had no idea how much time had passed, but he knew it had been a lengthy stretch this time around. Occasional scraps of food and puddles of water would just appear on the floor from time to time, and Kyle had reached the resolve of just accepting it. The redhead continued sucking water off his fingertips, wincing at the aching of his body. He felt stiff, constantly tired. He managed to work his limbs back into motion, but he could more than tell that they were already suffering pretty badly. An attempt at a pushup that buckled his arms and sent him slamming down and reopening his wounds made that more than clear as he passed out in a puddle of blood.   
  
He sighed, stretching his right leg back and forth as he lie staring blankly above him. Ten reps, switch legs, rest until they stopped tingling. That’d been his process and it seemed to be the only way to do it without hurting himself too badly. He felt his right wrist throb and groaned, staring at it in the darkness in aggravation. “Get better already you fuck,” he ordered. Any injury was just too much to deal with on top of the whole being a prisoner thing. He had to get out, he had to get healthy again. Kyle was well aware that he was starting to waste away, he could feel it every time he was granted a handful of meat. Just a few pieces would have him practically collapsing, feeling beyond full. But a quick touch of his stomach, trailing his fingers up towards a lightly protruding rib told the entire tale. He’d always been scrawny, he’d been picked on for it his whole life, but this was getting to eating disorder levels. He wasn’t sure of how to fix it when eating six chunks of bread sent his stomach into a frantic fit of fullness.  
  
That damn creaking broke through his wonderings and he scowled, twisting himself upright and staring as Damien and his little orbs came through the door way. Kyle hissed, squinting in the intrusion but doing his damnedest to stare the demon down with the furious glare that made even Cartman know to back off of him. “Ya know,” he started, drawling his tone out, “If you’re gonna keep me hostage, maybe you should fucking treat me like one and just leave me the fuck alone.”  
  
Damien snorted, shaking his head and staring at him interestedly. “You’re not a hostage,” he grinned. “You’re my pet, remember?”  
  
“Get some new fucking material you demonic faggot,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. He brought his chained wrist up and rubbed at the stinging behind his lashes, trying to keep up his glare but unable to past the waterlogged vision. “Just get the fuck out and let me go.”  
  
“No,” he raised his brow, standing over him. “Perhaps Doggie doesn’t understand,” he said dryly. “Doggie is here for Master’s pleasure.”  
  
“Well you better send me back to the fucking Adoption Agency because I have a bit of a problem being told what to do,” he bit. They stared at each other before Kyle growled, struggling onto his feet, his arms weighed down by his shackles. Damien watched him carefully, an impatient, calm look over his face. The expression drove Kyle to his breaking point. “You listen here you piece of shit,” he spat, pushing Damien a bit, frowning at it doing nothing more than jolting the demon a tad. “I am _not_ your dog. I will _never_ be your dog. You can fuck right off with that. So you can just get the fuck-” he stopped as a hand shot over and clasped around his collar, pulling it back and choking him. He wheezed, his back bending uncomfortably as Damien continued tearing him down, that same bored aspect all over his face. His bound hands came to tear at the leather, trying to put separation between it and his throat. He swung his arm wildly in Damien’s direction trying to hit his face.  
  
“Bad dog,” Damien said calmly. Kyle snarled in complete rage, grabbing Damien’s assaulting arm and frantically scratching at it, his face beaming red as he struggled for air. Damien chuckled, giving him a momentary mercy by slackening the pull a tad. Kyle brought in his desperate breath, still fighting against Damien’s remarkably powerful grip. Damien’s free hand grabbed his chin and forced him to look up at him. Kyle’s teeth gritted and he thrashed his head around, trying to yank the hand off his face. Damien’s ruby eyes scanned over him, snake tongue darting about. “With a pedigree such as yours, you’d think your temperament would be more optimal,” he smirked.  
  
Green eyes sparked with reinvigorated life, such a powerful force of emotion that it sent Damien’s body into a complete stir. He watched, entranced as Kyle screamed in fury, lunging his body backward and tearing out of Damien’s hold. The demon grinned, watching Kyle’s disposition growing more adamant by the second. “You _fuck_ ,” the redhead sneered. “You can’t just _take_ a fucking person! I am no _one’s_ property! Especially not yours!” he pointed accusingly, panting, his entire body quivering in his anger. “Take. Me. HOME!” he screamed.  
  
“You are home,” he said smoothly, taking a step towards him. Kyle matched it, trying to keep the distance from the approaching monster. “Perhaps _humans_ can’t make a claim, little puppy, but _I_ can.” He raised his brow at Kyle flickering his eyes around for an escape route. “My soul is very slowly eating away at yours, my pet. Soon you’ll be nothing but a husk of your former self. You’ll drop to your knees, _begging_ to suck my cock. You’ll be my pretty little doll, reduced to nothing more sitting and waiting for your Master to call on you,” he jeered. Kyle’s face fell into a nauseated horror, his back landing against a wall. Damien cornered him in, staring him down with such intensity that Kyle had to collect himself before pressing on.  
  
“I...will _not_ be your fucking sex slave,” he breathed out, trying not to vomit all over himself at the phrase. “Stan and Kenny will get me out of here. You just fucking wait. They’ll get me out of here and they’ll tell me how to kill you, and I _will_ ,” he promised.  
  
“Awfully confident for a puppy,” he taunted.   
  
Kyle let out a long, subdued screech behind tightly clenched teeth, his cheeks beaming again before he lunged forward, grabbing around Damien’s neck and bringing them both down onto the ground. Damien watched with excitement, not the least bit fazed by the assault, as Kyle wrapped his hands around the demon’s neck, trying to choke him out. The marking on his forearms and hands split open, his twisted purple wrist throbbing in agony, but the redhead couldn’t be bothered, his entire being focused on one thing: Revenge. Damien stared into the jade eyes, spiking with such rancor it made the demon shiver. It was enticing. He was unable to believe that a mortal was capable of such intense emotion, such a drive to get what they wanted, even though it was going to cost them _dearly_.  
  
He chuckled behind Kyle’s hands, the pale boy faltering a bit as he realized his attack had no effect. Damien’s grin grew malicious, his eyes burning their deadly glow and the redhead gulped, his mind whirring. He was in trouble. He was in _so_ much trouble. He didn’t have any time to think of a way out before Damien’s hand re-clasped his neck, claws digging into the thin skin. A quick jolt of the arm sent Kyle flying off and crashing into an injured heap on the floor. He scrambled up onto his feet, holding his left arm with his pained hand, his triceps scraped and bleeding. He watched Damien slowly get up, staring the redhead down with that acute look once again. Kyle bit his lip, trying to back away, but realizing his chains around his arms had grown taut, holding him well into place.  
  
“Such a bad, _bad_ doggie,” Damien tutted his tongue. “And here I thought we were making some progress.”  
  
“Fuck you, you bastard!” he yelled, trying to press down the fear lingering in his voice.   
 Damien chuckled, walking slowly towards him and standing a few inches from the shaken boy. “Do you know what happens to dogs who attack their masters?”  
  
Kyle seethed, “They get put down? I’d welcome that because I’d _much_ rather be dead than have someone like you have their hands all over me.”  
  
The demon smiled amusedly and shook his head, “So clever, my little puppy. It’s a shame that dogs aren’t revered for their wit,” he cupped Kyle’s chin, feeling the quickened pulse under his fingertips and sighing contentedly. “No, my dear Kyle,” he cooed, stroking his thumb over the flustered face. “They are reminded of just where they stand with their masters.”  
  
“I know exactly where I stand with you,” he huffed. “Above you. Because I’m not a weak-ass pussy who has to kidnap people because I want to get laid!”  
  
Damien quirked his brow. “You believe this all to be about sex, do you?” Kyle blinked at him before getting tugged up towards his face, wincing at the tight chains ripping at his tender wrists. “My Kyle, were this merely about that, I would have taken you and left you for dead long ago. No. No you interest me far beyond just what beauty you hold,” he said softly, still stroking his cheek as Kyle’s face fell even further. “Such a defiance about you...it’s intoxicating.”  
  
“Why me?” Kyle managed to work out past the lump in his throat. “Find some other stubborn asshole and torture _them_. I didn’t do anything to you.”  
  
“Exactly,” he smirked. “McCormick told me of how kind you are, how you never wish harm on anyone, even your worst enemies.”  
  
Kyle scowled, “No. No I pretty much want to rip your fucking throat out with my bare hands, you fucker...” he paused. “Wait. How do you know Kenny?” he narrowed his eyes.  
  
“Old friend,” he shrugged dismissively. “A friend that told me all about you. You can blame him for my interest, my puppy.”  
  
Kyle’s face fell before he quickly shook himself back into anger. “No. No, I know Kenny wouldn’t fucking present me for you. You took what he said too far and that’s _it_.”  
  
Damien watched him curiously, the way that he tensed at his accusations of the blonde, the way that his face flushed and his pulse quickened under his touch and he chuckled. “So adamant about defending McCormick...any reason why?”  
  
“Because he’s one of my best friends, Dickface,” he scoffed, jerking his head back out of Damien’s hold. “I know him too well to let you try to tell me that he put me on a platter to serve to you.”  
  
He shrugged, “You can tell yourself that all you want, but McCormick certainly _did_ like to ramble on about you.” Kyle blinked, at a loss of how to respond to that one. He was getting beyond confused with this whole situation. How did Kenny know him in the first place? Under what circumstance would he ever meet the Devil’s son? He sighed irritably, this was just too much to figure out in his current predicament. “Now,” Damien brought his attention back to himself. “As for training you-”  
  
“You _can’t_ ‘train’ me! Get that through your thick fuckin-”  
  
He stopped as a quick slap erupted across his face. He hissed, feeling his lip slick with blood from Damien’s claw catching. “Good dogs wait for their masters,” he said thickly. “Now. We’re going to go over a very simple rule today, my Kyle.” Kyle sneered and Damien ignored it, pressing on. “You believe that you stand above me, little one? You’re _wrong_. You are the slave, I am the master, and that is just your reality that you will come to accept.”  
  
“In your dreams, you sick fuck,” he muttered, spitting out a bit of blood.  
  
“You will learn quickly, my pup, that you belong below me. And as such, you are not to get off of your knees.”  
  
Kyle scoffed, “I’m not going to kneel for you. It’s not going to happen.”  
  
Damien’s face took on that grin again and Kyle shied back a tad, learning very quickly that that smile is not one that he wants to be dealing with. “Oh, little doggie, you don’t have a choice,” he feigned a sympathetic tone. Kyle watched in abject horror as Damien held up his hand, a glimmering dagger appearing in his grip. “You see...” he continued, walking around behind Kyle, chuckling at the tense muscles of the boy’s back. He ran his fingers down the redhead’s spine, his claws brushing over the ivory flesh and licking his lips. He ran down, grabbing Kyle’s ass and making the boy lose all sense. He began kicking and thrashing in complete panic and anger, trying to get himself out of the over-eager hand. Damien just watched amusedly, taking his dagger and trailing it over a round globe, kneeling down as he continued running it along the back of Kyle’s thigh. The redhead tried looking behind him to see what the demon was up to, his body freezing as the dagger stopped on his calf muscle, the blade lightly tickling over his skin.   
  
“Don’t...” he breathed out, his chest heaving in realization.  
  
“You see,” Damien repeated, tonguing over his lips. “A good doggie remembers where it belongs with its master. It remembers that above all else, it is below their master’s feet.” He paused, grinning wickedly and rearing back, plunging the knife down into Kyle’s leg. The boy howled, his entire body buckling in shock. Tears fell freely down his face, long agonized groans and screams echoing around the room as Damien tore the dagger down his muscle, smooth as butter before ripping it out. He chuckled, licking the blade and sighing contentedly under the sound of Kyle’s frantic screams and curses. He watched Kyle’s body trying to support itself on his remaining leg and shook his head. That just wouldn’t do. He quickly penetrated the other calf, his eyes gleaming deviously at the sight of the blade disappearing into Kyle’s body. Kyle sobbed vehemently, his body failing him and only the chains of his wrists holding him up once again.  
  
 Damien laughed darkly, pulling his dagger back out and getting to his feet, circling back around to look at his fallen redhead. He watched the blood leaking from his legs, the tears streaming down his face. It was different than before, he noted with a grin. This time, Kyle wasn’t a muddled, confused mess. His eyes were beaming with clarity, with horrified realization. He knew _exactly_ what was happening to him. Damien shuddered in excitement, anticipating Kyle’s next move beyond anything he ever had before.  
  
“You...you...” Kyle sobbed out, shaking his head viciously. “YOU FUCK, I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” he screamed. Damien waved his hand, loosening his chains again and watching Kyle fall forward, catching himself on his arms. He looked up and shook his head, tear lines streaming steadily. He reached out, grabbing Damien’s pants in a death grip. “I’m. Not. Yours.” he hissed, forcing himself to steady out.  
  
“And yet,” he gestured with flourish, “Here you are, below me. Groveling at my feet.”  
  
“I don’t need legs to kill you,” he panted. “I swear to God, you fucker I will get away from you!”   
  
Damien shook his head with a small huff of a laugh. “Well, swear to God all you want. But He’s not coming for you. No one is,” he raised his brow, kicking Kyle off of his leg and sending him sprawling onto his side. He watched the boy hungrily as he curled into himself, groaning and crying quietly. He snickered at the redhead’s fingers clutching against the stone floor, as though trying to hold himself down from reality trying to pick him up and throw him across the room. “You’ll learn, my puppy. Next time...we’ll begin work on what I brought you here for. You’re going to learn to make Master very happy,” he said slyly.  
  
Kyle’s head shot up, his jaw trembling. “You stay away from me. Don’t you _touch_ me!”  
  
Damien snorted, pivoting and starting towards the door. He looked to see Kyle, wounded and bleeding, his face upturned in horror at his future prospects and felt that famished feeling swelling inside of him once again. He smirked, his eyes half-lidded. “Soon enough, little Kyle, you’ll crave nothing but my touch.”  
  
“FUCK YOU!” he screeched. “I won’t! If I can’t die then _fine_ , but I’ll get out of here. I won’t stop fighting you until I’m out, you sick freak!” Damien watched him in silence, the presentiment of their war beaming excitedly through his psyche. He knew. He knew that Kyle would fight. Their dance was only just beginning, and the redhead was viciously resisting every step he was led in. He would fight until the very last note of their canticle, stepping on Damien’s toes and trying to throw the both of them off rhythm to free himself of the music’s hold. The demon smiled devilishly, watching his prisoner as his stomach curled in adrenaline, more than ready for the impending waltz.  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Day 85**  
  
“Mother fucking shit cunt cock damn!” Kyle screeched, falling down to his knees for perhaps the twentieth time in a row. He twisted, looking at his calves and scowling furiously. This didn’t make any sense. Why weren’t they healing?! He groaned, propping himself up on his knees and reaching back, rubbing the clotted knife wounds, hissing at a sharp pain propelling itself through the muscle. He didn’t know how long it’d been since he got them, but he _knew_ it’d been long enough without him walking that they should have only been sore by now. But no. Each time he attempted to get himself back up, a wave of egregious spasms rocked him back down onto the floor; each nerve of his legs biting against his iron-clad will. He fell back towards his front, scraping his nails against the cold stone beneath him. His scarlet bangs lied lazily on his forehead, an annoying tickling combating the pure frustration building within him. If he couldn’t use his legs, he couldn’t fucking _run_. He couldn’t get out if he couldn’t move!   
  
He screeched from his teeth, beating his fist against the rock. He couldn’t figure any of this out for the life of him. Damien was toying with him. He’d left him rotting away in here for so fucking long. Kyle wasn’t stupid. The demon was waiting for him to crack on his own, for the isolation to finally get to him and be his downfall. “Too bad I’m a stubborn introvert, you sack of shit,” he spat out into the lonely confines. He took an angry, shuddering breath, letting his body slump exhaustively. How hadn’t the guys found him yet? If Kenny knew Damien, then he must know how to get to wherever the hell Kyle was being kept, right?   
  
Kyle sighed in irritation, rubbing his temple. This was just beyond what he needed. He wanted to go _home_. He wanted to see Stan and Kenny again. He wanted to see his parents and Ike. He rubbed his arms, sniffling a bit to himself and shaking his head. He wanted to go back to school, to live his life like any other teenager. He bit his lip, wondering if he’d get back in time to graduate with his friends the next year. He furrowed his brow. Of course he would. Damien would _have_ to get sick of him by then. A year is way too long for someone to keep a prisoner who wants nothing to do with them...right? He frowned. He actually had no idea. He wasn’t exactly proficient in the fine-eyed areas of being a hostage. But the idea of Damien holding onto him for all eternity was an absolutely horrifying notion. At this point it already _seemed_ like it’d been that long. One sustained moment in the dark interrupted sparsely by his captor didn’t make for an accurate time table.  
  
He looked up into the black void above his head and felt his eyes burning. The weight of his chains seemed impossibly heavy as he slowly worked his hands together, clasping them and bowing his head. He bit his lip and took a heavy breath. “God?” he forced out through gritted teeth. “Get me out of this. Please. I fucking followed the Torah like I was supposed to, I did my part in whatever I was asked by the Synagogue...I need out of this. Please _please_ give Kenny and Stan the answers,” he prayed, forcing back tears. “I’m running out of options and things for him to fucking stab, God...I-I don’t know why you would let him do this to me,” his tense stance slacked defeatedly as he looked back up at the void, beginning to tremble in desperate emotion that he hadn’t let free in the slightest since his capture.  
  
“Because God doesn’t care for you like I do, my pet,” Damien’s voice ran out smoothly. Kyle whipped around, circumscribing his feelings once more, baring his teeth at the unwelcome visitor. Damien’s fangs gleamed in his lights as he stared at the boy. He chuckled, walking towards him slowly and staring up at where Kyle was. “You were Jewish, correct?”  
  
 “I _am_ Jewish,” he spat, trying to scoot away before a hand tangled in his curls stopped him. He growled, but allowed it to remain there. He had to save strength in case something more went wrong.  
  
“Ah, God’s ‘Chosen People’,” he mocked, raising a brow at Kyle. “Funny, how you end up the Devil’s chosen person, is it not?”  
  
“Yeah, it’s fucking hilarious,” Kyle muttered, rolling his eyes.  
  
Damien chuckled, “What’s on your mind, my pet?”  
  
He scoffed. “Sunshine and daisies, you prick. Thought you could read my fucking mind, anyway.”  
  
He smirked, “That I can. But I prefer for my pets to admit their disobediences themselves, less their punishments become more severe,” he hinted. He looked down at Kyle expectantly and the redhead let out a grumble of a breath.  
  
“I want out of here,” he said lowly. “I want to go home. I want you to fucking die and I want to see it happen.”  
  
“Good boy,” he cooed, petting through his hair. Kyle snarled, ripping the hand off his head and pushing himself back from the deriding hand on his knees. Damien watched him, beguiled at his reaction. “Do you not enjoy when I’m kind to you, even though what you said was truly naughty?” he asked cooly.  
  
“That isn’t kind,” he sneered, staring up at him. “You’re treating me like an animal!”  
  
He shrugged, “That’s what you are, my puppy.”  
  
Red began to edge his vision, his fingers digging into his stone floor. He desperately wanted the use of his legs, to try to attack the demon once again. “I. Am. A. Person,” he enunciated. “My name is fucking Kyle and you need to realize that that’s not changing!”  
  
Damien chuckled, “ _Owners_ get to name their dogs, little one.” He looked back up at the blackness and shook his head amusedly. “Amazing how much you humans depend on Him.”  
  
Kyle raised his brow. “God?”  
  
He nodded. “You know how little he’s done for you in the past thousands of years? He doesn’t care about your plights,” he shrugged. “All he cares about is your worship...” he looked down and smiled evilly at the boy. “All he cares about is you being on your knees.”  
  
Kyle huffed at his less-than-subtle bragging, “You’re not a god. You’re a pussy who happens to have powers.”  
  
 “And who happens to have _you_ ,” he reminded him coldly. “Remember that insulting me does not end well for you, my pup.”  
  
He gave a sarcastic short laugh, “Oh. Yeah. Because this is my dream life, you piece of shit! I forgot it was my fantasy to be held captive by a fucking demonic freak who has nothing better to do!” They locked stares, he could see the anger beginning to spark in Damien’s garnet gaze and couldn’t help himself. He needed the rise. He needed to know that Damien had his weaknesses, too. He had to know he wasn’t the only one with disadvantages in this fight. “Your dad must not think highly of you,” he shrugged dismissively, redirecting his attention back to the ceiling. “I mean, if you have the time to waste on torturing a mortal, he must not give you much by the means of responsibilities...” he waited, hearing nothing but a tense silence and smirking to himself. “You must be a disappointment,” he feigned a pitiful sigh. “Sucks for you, Platypus.”  
  
Damien paused and cocked his brow. “Platypus?” he repeated.  
  
Kyle looked at him cockily, crossing his arms and shrugging. “If you think I’m a dog, then I think you’re a platypus. One of God’s biggest mistakes. A freak of nature who has no fucking business even existing and _no one_ would miss should they become extinct.”  
  
Damien grinned sardonically, walking over towards the redhead and staring down on him. “Oh? Is that so, little Bulldog?”  
  
“Yeah, it fucking is, little _Platypus_ ,” he mocked, shaking his head a bit with his syllables.  
  
“Hm,” Damien watched him a bit before chuckling darkly. Kyle watched him suspiciously before his wrists’ chains were yanked behind him towards a wall. He screamed in agony as his arms flew back, his left shoulder dislocating immediately as he was slammed onto his back on the floor. He landed with them above his head, panting in anguish and watching as Damien came and kneeled down beside him. A fanged smirk greeted his blackened-laced vision and he weakly growled, knowing well enough that it sounded more like a whimper than anything remotely intimidating. “Let me remind you about something regarding platypuses,” he cocked his brow, letting his claw run over Kyle’s exposed and hyperventilating chest slowly. “They’re venomous, my pup,” he tongued his lips, staring at the sinewy curves of Kyle’s naked body. He began trailing his claw up Kyle’s cheek, watching the briefest flicker of pure fear in pools of jade come and go. Damien took a deep, steadying breath. It was time. Only a tinge of truly horrified dismay was what he was waiting for, and he’d finally _gotten it_.  
  
“Don’t touch me,” Kyle gulped, seeing the look in Damien’s eyes beginning to fade from humor into a dark, covet stare. He tried to sit himself up, yelping as Damien’s hand came down onto his throat and held him steady.  
  
Damien’s breath became ladened with desire, sending Kyle’s nerves clattering against each other like raindrops spattering about. “Dogs always stay _below_ their masters,” he said calmly, leaning over the trapped boy and running his free hand along the taut muscles of his hips and legs. “When I am kneeling beside you, you are to lie down at my feet, do you understand?”  
  
That familiar rebellion sparked within the catatonic redhead and he shook his head furiously. “Get off!” he screeched hoarsely beneath the powerful hand. He gasped as Damien’s claws wrapped around his hip, squeezing deep into his skin, his thumb digging into his scars. He whined, trying to thrash around, his legs refusing to give him the propulsion to do so. He brought down his still-functional arm, pounding against Damien’s shoulder as brutally as he could muster. Damien looked at him, merely entertained by his antics.  
  
“Such a bad dog,” he purred. “I guess I’ll have to teach my pet just what it is he needs to do for Master, won’t I?”  
  
“Don’t,” he said, breathing brokenly, his fist stopping its beating. “Just...just leave. You can leave me in here. Just don’t. Do. This,” he pleaded. He hissed as Damien’s claws left his flesh, his hand coming up and scraping the blood-stained nails down his cheek.  
  
“You look so lovely in red, my pup,” he cooed, staring at the stark contrast of color on Kyle’s alabaster skin. The boy just looked at him, his determination beginning to give way to horror of his situation. “Platypuses,” Damien continued. “Have little barbs on their feet. These barbs,” he chuckled, running his index finger down Kyle’s throat, over his collar, “are filled with the venom. Now, it doesn’t _kill_ humans...but it hurts. It puts them in such pain that they become immobile. In fact, the anguish can last for _months_ depending on how much one is injected with.” He poked Kyle with his claw pointedly and the boy gulped, looking up at the man. “I can give you something even _more_ agonizing,” he promised. “And I will. Unless you be a good doggie. Understand?”  
  
“I-I...” Kyle looked between him and his claw, grating his lip nervously. He was against the wall here. His legs didn’t work, his arm was out of its socket. Damien had every upper hand at this point.  
  
“Good boy,” he smirked. “Now. Beg to suck my cock.”  
  
Kyle’s entire body became rigid, his jaw trembling in terror and unguarded rage. He shook his head slowly. “I won’t,” he said firmly, forcing himself to stay steady, despite knowing that he was digging his grave here. He just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t give Damien any ounce of that kind of victory. He would _never_ let him have that power over him. “I _won’t_ ,” he repeated louder and more forcefully, scowling up at the monster.  
  
Damien laughed lowly, staring at him through half-lidded eyes. “Very well, my pup. Then I’ll just paralyze you and use your mouth to my own devices.” Kyle didn’t have so much of a chance to breathe his protests before the demon lunged down, sinking his fangs deep into Kyle’s side. The redhead arched up violently and screamed, tears swelling in his eyes as the pain of the venom rocketed through him. He tried forcing his body to move away from Damien’s clenched jaw, doing nothing more than weakly jolting about under his hold. He choked out broken sobs, his veins threatening to burst out of his skin in waves of searing heat. This one was stronger than the one Damien used to take him from his home. This venom was on an entirely different plane of torment.  
  
‘ _Oh god, oh god this is it_ ,’ Kyle thought, his body convulsing with misery the likes of which he didn’t even know were possible. ‘ _Someone rescue me! Someone fucking help me!_ ’ He clenched his eyes shut, feeling Damien releasing his mouth’s hold and letting him writhe on the floor. Each involuntary arch sent his dislocated shoulder into a screaming nightmare, his entire body glossing over with an instantaneous sweat.   
  
Damien watched carnivorously, seeing Kyle’s hair becoming plastered against his forehead, his lithe form bouncing up towards him in small bursts as he wailed. He’d never seen something so _beautiful_. It was a dance just for him; an erotic display of complete submission and yet utter defiance that few others could ever showcase. Not like Kyle. Damien slowly undid his jeans, wrapping his hand around his already throbbing cock. He shuddered, pumping on himself slowly as he watched the boy swaying for him. “Good boy,” he murmured, licking his lips as Kyle’s body began slowing its movement, finally settling on the floor. A few twitches escaped Kyle’s fingers and lips, his eyes darting around anxiously in engrossed panic.  
  
Damien growled predatorily, letting go of himself and hefting under Kyle’s unresponsive form. He watched his left arm fall at an awkward angle, Kyle’s face barely able to contort itself, the barest of whimpers escaping his lips. He smirked, grabbing the arm roughly and yanking on it, an audible popping echoing around the room. Kyle’s eyes _screamed_. The boy had never felt such pain. He didn’t know the human body could withstand so _much_. His entire body felt encased in fire, every bit of him throbbing and scorching in a blinding, stark-white agony. How he wasn’t unconscious yet, he’d never know, but he prayed for it as he broke into a cold sweat, gasping for air. He begged for _something_ to put him out of this misery.  
  
No such hopes came to fruition, however, as Damien propped him up by his hair with one hand, the other coming and prying his jaw open. He tried to fight his advances, tried to bite down once again and attempt to take off his fingers, but to no avail. Blinking was the extent of his capabilities, something that frightened the living hell out of him as he saw Damien’s cock waiting for him. His breathing was erratic as Damien managed to open his jaw wide, grabbing his cock and staring down at him. “Doggie is being so well behaved,” he taunted. “He deserves his treat,” he grinned before pressing the head of his dick down slowly into Kyle’s open lips. The boy screamed angrily all he could from his swollen throat, bile threatening to rise up against him before the pain pressed it down.   
  
Damien paused for a moment, enjoying the feeling of his head pushing on Kyle’s tongue before propelling his hips completely against the boy. Kyle began to choke around the hot skin, his throat constricting its access, demanding reprieve. He sobbed, clenching his eyes shut as Damien took a shivering breath, thrusting in and out of his agape mouth effortlessly. The redhead wanted to bite. God how he wanted to. He wanted to rip the demon’s dick off with his teeth and beat him to death with it. He wanted someone to be his cliche hero, whisking in just in time to save him. But he knew that wasn’t what was happening right now. Instead, he was just going to have to sit here, frozen in woe as Damien used his body to his liking for what seemed like forever.  
  
A sharp slap to the face startled him, Damien’s voice breaking through over the slurping sound of his cock using Kyle’s mouth. “Open your eyes and look at me, my pet,” he ordered. “You are not to look away from me while I use you.”  
  
Kyle sighed defeatedly, his body listlessly bobbing along to Damien’s rhythm. He couldn’t handle more pain. There was no conceivable way...he’d have to concede on this one. He directed tear-stained eyes up to the demon’s victorious gaze, the unruly horror of his situation taking complete hold; Damien straddling his paralyzed torso, claws tangled through sweat-licked tendrils, hips pushing a thick cock in and out with ease. Each press into his throat flooded his mouth with a new wave of saliva, Damien’s movements pushing enough out to let trail down his scandalized face.  
  
Damien was nothing short of ecstatic from the pure loss and pain behind Kyle’s stare, feeling such a surge of power it brought him to his edge in record time. He’d been waiting for this moment for so long: To remind the boy just who it was he belonged to, to let him know that his body no longer belonged to himself; It belonged to his master now. Damien grunted, a bit disappointed that he was losing himself so quickly, but knew that there was little chance of such an achievement on his part not overstimulating him. He grinned, a glint in his eyes as his hips worked faster against Kyle, indulging in the abundant, tortured gagging noises escaping his pet. “Such a good whore,” he chuckled, forked tongue swiping a sweating upper lip. Kyle’s face flushed at the term and that was all it took before Damien lost sight of himself. He ripped out of his mouth and began fisting himself furiously, pushing Kyle’s head down to stare at his cock. Kyle watched in terror as he exploded over his pretty, pale face with a long, pleasured groan. His cum clung to his hair and his sweat-plastered skin like morning dew.   
  
Kyle took a few grateful breaths, sniveling miserably. He lost. He _lost_. He managed to hiccup out a cry, feeling the slimy evidence trailing down his blank expression, his devastated green eyes. Damien released his hair, watching as Kyle’s body collapsed backwards, his head falling to the side, abused mouth still slack as he panted. Tears, drool, and cum shone on his face, lit up gorgeously in the red ambiance of the room.   
  
Damien stared at him, panting with a wide smile as he stuffed himself back into his pants. He almost couldn’t believe how amazing that had felt, how every bit of him was singing such a pleasurable song that he nearly reached down to grab the boy and demand his encore. But no, that could wait. “Good, good boy,” he praised, brushing soaked copper bangs out of his eyes. He smirked, trailing his finger through a spurt of his release and pressing it onto Kyle’s abused tongue. Kyle just shut his eyes, still silently crying as the boy watched him satisfactorily. “Just wait until next time, my pet,” he grinned, waiting for Kyle’s subtle crinkle of his brow to appear as he ran his fingers through his ember hair lovingly. “Next time, you’ll be bent over for me, feeling just how _much_ you belong to me.” He heard a long winded cry from Kyle’s throat and smiled, glancing up snarkily towards the ceiling and letting out a dark, knowing laugh into the void.  
  


* * *

  
**Present Day**  
  
The air in his room was so muddled with noises, from the creaking of the walls to the hum of the air conditioner that it drove him to the point of madness. It confounded him, considering he’d spent so much time in pure, terrifying silence one would think he’d be grateful for the reprieve. He shivered, his nails coming up and scratching at his arms furiously. He couldn’t stop shaking, he just didn’t understand what was happening to him. Kyle whimpered, rolling over onto his side on his bed, staring at his clock, hazily registering that it was just past midnight. A dry gulp fell in his throat, his head pounding in beat with the blinking colon of the digital machine. He twitched a bit and gritted his teeth, feeling cold sweat pouring down him, violent, spastic shakes beginning to rock his body uncontrollably. What was _happening_?  
  
He hissed, his left arm beginning to throb. He pulled it down in front of himself, staring at the pulsing skin in the pale moonlight beaming down on him. The shadows of the night were monstrous, he couldn’t help but wish he was back in the pure darkness of his prison. Nothing there seemed ominous, there were no tree branch silhouettes to appear as thought they could reach in and take him at any moment. The only worry he had in there was Damien, and at least he always made his presence known. He groaned, curling into himself as the back of his hand throbbed excruciatingly, the pain making his stomach churn and his head seem heavier than rocks. He wondered if maybe he caught a virus or something of the sort, blankly trying to recall if he ever got truly sick while down in his dungeon.  
  
He gulped, grating over his lip worriedly. He knew how to figure out what was wrong with him, he just didn’t know if it was the safest of measures. But he knew only one person could point him in the direction of feeling better. “ _Master_?” he whispered timidly, his eyes darting around the room. He watched as Damien popped up through his floor through a puddle of dark, inky shadows.   
  
The demon smiled at him and chuckled, “You called, my pet?”  
  
“Master...help...” he pleaded, choking a bit on the pain erupting through his system.   
  
Damien shook his head, “Only _you_ can fix this problem, my pet.” Kyle stared at him in confusion, sniffling miserably and watching as his master sat on the bed beside him, stroking through his hair comfortingly. He sniveled, nestling closer to the warmth and letting Damien’s familiar voice fill the void around them. “It’s been a week since your encounter with Token, my Kyle,” he reminded him. “You only have a week each time before your body starts reacting, begins to crave the power you feed upon.”  
  
Kyle blinked, looking at him with glossed-over eyes. “P-power?” he repeated, curling further into himself and yelping with a sudden muscle spasm that rendered him nearly paralyzed.  
  
He cocked his brow amusedly, twiddling with Kyle’s curls mindlessly as he waited for him to regain his control. “I have told you, little bulldog, that is something you will learn another day.” Kyle pouted a bit but nodded, knowing full and well not to push the question any further. Damien sighed, hefting under Kyle and setting him up against his side, able to feel the agony his pet was in running through his own system with the contact. “You’re in withdrawal,” he said simply. “You must find yourself another person before it renders you catatonic, my pet. And if you get to that point, remember: You’re coming back to your prison,” he reiterated darkly. Kyle looked up at him and nodded silently, biting his lip in nerves. Damien’s stern frown broke and he chuckled warmly, getting back to his feet and watching Kyle slumping on the bed exhaustedly. “You did well enough your first time around,” he reminded him. “Find yourself another victim and you’ll regain what little strength your mortal body holds. Do you understand?”  
  
“Yes, Master,” he said meekly.  
  
Damien nodded approvingly, leaning down and planting a brash kiss against his open lips. “Good luck, little phoenix,” he smiled before sinking back into the floor.  
  
Kyle stared at the spot he vanished from and sighed, weakly climbing off of his bed and onto his knees on the floor. He reached under his bed, grabbing a small, black wooden box, Damien’s number carved across the top in a bright carmine. Kyle placed his hand over the numbers,  watching them glow before the box popped open. He tongued over his lips, grabbing a small dagger from the confines of the container and twisting it weakly in his fingers.  
  
He bit his lip, holding the blade against his thumb and slashing down, flinching with a small yelp. He watched the blood seeping down his finger and cocked his head at the color in the night. So dark and foreboding, so close to the natural state of his master’s eyes. He blinked, shaking his thoughts away as he began to strip off his clothes, tossing them onto his bed. He repeated the cut on his opposing thumb, his lusting pain quickly beginning to exceed itself. He’d have to work quickly before he lost the ability to go after what he needed. He gulped, taking the severed flesh and running a long trail of blood over each incantational scar until every word was crossed out.  
  
 “ _Ego sum servus diaboli_ ,” he said quietly, staring at his wounds. “ _Sit ut quaeque imperaverit facere et sanem_.” He watched, just as stunned as he’d been last week at each scar fading down into his skin. He took a deep, shuddery breath, placing his hand on his blooded tattoo. “ _Sum eius. Sed scire non possunt..._ ” he clenched his eyes shut, grunting in pain as the mark seared down into his chest. He could feel the sigil imprinted within him and he gulped as his body began quaking again. “Have to hurry,” he reminded himself, gritting his teeth. He placed both of his hands on his cheeks, taking a shaky breath. “ _Reddis quam vetus corpus...ante dominum meum,_ ” he sighed, taking a large, cleansing breath as he felt his entire body becoming revitalized. He could feel every internal wound, every tired, aching muscle, every bit of pain melting away. He knew it was temporary, he knew that he only had roughly an hour before the power seeped out of him, but he relished in the feeling of being human once again.  
  
He got to his feet, testing out his rejuvenated legs and smiling widely at the lack of pain in his movement. He turned his arms in front of him, his skin glowing with health once more and lifting his heavy heart. He almost forgot what it was like to look like this, to _feel_ like this. The happiness came to a grinding halt however as he came across the black veins on the back of his hand, promptly remembering his duties. His master was counting on him.   
  
He placed the dagger back into its case, shoving it back under his bed and glancing around the darkened room. He narrowed his brow and frowned, his eyes sparking red. “ _Creaturarum, auxiliatrix!_ ” he hissed. He watched, entranced as his array of brightly colored vines came in through the floor, crawling up and beginning to entangle him in a cloak of warmth. They wrapped around each other, stringing along his legs and working their way up like the finest pieces of silk. He tongued over his lips thoughtfully as they continued to wind around him, looking out the window at the pale moonlight.   
  
He felt them completely enclose him, melting within their gentle grips, his body beginning to seep into their colors. He closed his eyes and let out a long, blissful sigh at the comforting hold as they blinded over him, beginning to blend within his skin and leech out into the dark abyss of the night. With a heavy breath and a gentle, soothing tone he whispered to them, “ _Proxima hostia domini mei..._ Clyde Donovan.”   
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Ego sum servus diaboli, Sit ut quaeque imperaverit facere et sanem_ : I am the servant of the devil, let my body heal so I may serve him.  
>   
>  _Sum eius. Sed scire non possunt_ : I am his, but they must never know  
>   
>  _Reddis quam vetus corpus...ante dominum meum_ : Return me to my previous body...before my master claimed me  
>   
>  _Creaturarum, auxiliatrix_ : Creatures, help  
>   
>  _Proxima hostia domini mei_ : My master’s next victim...  
>   
> Remember, Latin is a dead-ass language so these are rough-ass translations, pft. Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Present Day - Week Six**  
  
Sitting around Stan’s living room on his birthday had been tradition for years. The boy never particularly wanted to go out and do anything much for -as Kyle had referred to it for years- the day of ‘The day in which I was expelled from a cunt. Through her vagina.’ Stan couldn’t help but feel misty-eyed at the memory of the first day Kyle had blurted that out, unknowing that both of their mothers were a few feet behind them. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Kyle try to sweet talk his way out of a situation so fast. Lounging on the couch, surrounded by friends playing video games, he let out a soft hiccup of a laugh, knowing that that Kyle was buried so deep beneath this new obsequious boy that unearthing him could take a lifetime.   
  
Kenny from beside him looked over, quirking his brow as he sipped from his Coke can. “What’s up?”  
  
Stan looked at him with a sad smile, “Kyle. Just...remembering how he used to get about birthdays,” he sighed, shaking his head.  
  
Kenny gave an echoing laugh and nodded. “Remember that year he threw me that huge-ass surprise party?”  
  
“And the cake he made was so over-frosted he couldn’t even eat it because of his blood sugar,” Stan snorted. They looked at each other with such regretful smiles that it nearly tore the both of them apart. Stan shrugged listlessly, trying to fight off his impending wave of depression, “For someone who thought celebrating this crap was a waste of time, the idiot went all out for us every year.”  
  
“Well that’s just the kind of person he was...” Kenny trailed off, breaking off from Stan’s eyes and staring blankly at the screen flashing with gunfire. He bit his lip, fidgeting as he remembered very clearly about telling Damien that story. How the demon laughed at Kyle’s desperate attempts to make everything run perfectly, to make Kenny’s day one he’d remember for the rest of his life. There was still just so much guilt lying upon his shoulders. Kyle’s body may have been returned, but their friend was not, and Ken knew it was his own goddamn fault.  
  
Craig looked over from the armchair, waiting for his character to respawn and raised his brow. “Stop talking like he’s dead, jeez,” he scoffed. “He’ll be back to his usual bitchy self soon, I’m sure.”  
  
The two of them growled lightly before Cartman broke in, “Yeah. He’ll get his period and his vagina will empty its sandy contents and he’ll make our lives Hell again.”  
  
“Jesus fucking _Christ_ , Cartman!” Kenny scowled. “You’re acting like he just had a bad fucking day! He was _kidnapped_ and _tortured_. Not just fucking mildly inconvenienced!”  
  
Cartman’s sharp amber eyes cut over towards him, “And treating him like he’s a fucking Faberge Egg isn’t going to make him any better, Dumb fucks.”  
  
“Well we can’t exactly be rough assholes with him, Fatass,” Stan seethed. “He panics if there’s a goddamn closing door he wasn’t expecting! Treating him like nothing happened isn’t going to do anything but make him scared of us, too!” Cartman opened his mouth angrily before it slowly closed, his brows furrowed and his eyes scanning over the worn carpet beneath him curiously. The reality of Stan’s words settled in around the group like a fog. They had so few options with how to deal with the situation at hand. Patience seemed to be the only order of the day, and it was a quiet, stifling reminder of the horrors of what’d happened.  
  
Token sighed exhaustedly, leaning back against the side of Craig’s chair and looking at Kenny and Stan, “Dudes, he’ll be okay,” he said. “You’re right, you’ll have to be gentle with him, but he’ll come around.”  
  
“Speaking of coming around,” Kenny raised his brow, “You feelin’ any better, Token?”  
  
He shook his head. “No. I’m still so fucking tired all the time. The headache stopped about two days ago but...ugh, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”  
  
“Well whatever it is, you gave it to me, Dickface,” Clyde responded from beside Kenny, letting out a lengthy yawn.   
  
Ken smirked, “Must be mono. The kissing disease,” he wriggled his fingers for effect while Stan, Craig, and Cartman snorted in laughter.  
  
Clyde looked over and hit his arm lightly, his expression unamused. “I would beat the shit out of you for that, McCormick but I’m too tired to make a sandwich, let alone smack your empty head around.”  
  
Kenny gestured around dramatically, “And I thank the gods for that.”  
  
Token chuckled and shook his head, “Well, Clyde, I have no idea what it is. The doctor can’t figure it out either. And yes, we tested for mono,” he added pointedly, snuggling back into the chair.  
  
“It’s goin’ around, whatever it is,” Craig responded dryly, gray eyes dully fixed as he shot Cartman’s character into a bloody puddle. “There’s like, five other guys around that’ve been complaining.”  
  
“Only guys?” Kenny cocked his head. “Like who?”  
  
“Stoley for one thing...he said that he met a few other guys our age working at J-mart that’ve caught it,” he shrugged.  
  
“Huh, that’s...weird,” Stan raised his brow. “I didn’t know viruses were so specific...”  
  
Kenny sighed, placing his cheek into his hand. “Ky would’ve known,” he muttered tiredly. Stan nodded in solemn agreement, all of them turning back to watch the bloodshed on the screen in silence. It was surreal, mentioning their living, breathing friend in the past tense. They’d had nearly two years of dealing with it, but it was still just a lot for them to wrap their minds around, especially with the living form back and wandering around. A quick rapping on the door jolted their attention and they blinked confusedly. “Who else is comin’?” Kenny asked Stan.  
  
“Uh, no one to my knowledge, unless Tweek came back early from his trip,” he said, hopping up off the couch and heading towards the door. They watched, all of them falling into befuddled, but eager faces as Kyle popped up behind the barrier. “Dude, I thought you couldn’t come!” Stan said softly and excitedly, blindly giddy at the boy’s appearance.  
  
Kyle gave him a weak smile, stumbling a bit with his quad-cane he’d gotten a few weeks beforehand on the stoop. Ike popped up beside of him and shrugged. “I convinced Mom that he needed this more than just lying around in bed,” he raised his brow. “You owe me big.”  
  
Stan chuckled and nodded, “Gotcha.”  
  
Ike smirked, tossing a plastic container into his hands. Stan looked at it questionably and Ike jerked his thumb to his older brother. “Peanut butter chocolate chip, his idea,” he explained. “Ky made ‘em by himself...well...as best as he could,” he winced, pointing to a large bruise flowering on the side of Kyle’s brow bone. “He fell into the counter and Mom had to take over...but he did everything up to putting them in the oven,” he smiled with a touch of bravado for his brother.  
  
Stan’s eyes welled with more tears, smiling wider than he thought possible without his face splitting in half. Kyle remembered his favorite cookie. He struggled through his obvious pains and his pure confusion of whatever life was handing him and still came through for Stan as he had for so many years of their lives. Stan’s Kyle _was_ still in there somewhere deep down. Kyle cleared his throat, biting his lip. “H-happy birthday, S-Stan,” he worked out shyly with a gentle smile that sent Stan’s heart into a furious flurry of joy.  
  
“Thanks, Ky,” he said, his voice cracking in the slightest. Kyle smiled wider, looking as though he were beaming with pride for his accomplishment in finding his words so smoothly.  
  
Ike noticed Stan’s emotional prepubescent sound and snorted, “You pansy. Well, Ky just finished his physical therapy so he’s a little sore...good luck. Took me ten minutes to get him down the walk.” He looked up at his older brother and poked him a bit, waiting for the redhead to look down at him. “We’ll come get you whenever someone calls us, Dude.” Kyle nodded and Ike patted his arm gently, shooting Stan a wink and making his way back to his father waiting in the car on the curb.  
  
“Come on, Ky,” Stan said, helping the boy over the ledge into the house. Kyle hissed, nearly falling down onto the carpet with the large step. Kenny hopped to his feet, slowly making his way over towards them and bending down, gently grabbing Kyle’s free arm and throwing it over his shoulder.   
  
“C’mon, you got this,” he smiled reassuringly, though his heart was breaking with every step. Kyle looked at him with a blank expression before turning to the room of gawkers. His eyes lingered on Clyde and Token and he blushed, reverting his eyes back onto the floor. The two of them weren’t the least bit fazed by his presence, just happy to know that he was able to have somewhat of a life now. He let Kenny slowly lead him over to the couch, blushing harder as Clyde moved to get off and give the three of them the room to sit together. Kyle yelped as he stumbled and fell down onto his knees, bringing Kenny down with him as he landed with the side of his face slamming into the cushion. Kyle cringed in embarrassment, looking up at Kenny with glassy eyes. The blonde kept up his gentle smile, pushing away visions of slitting Damien’s throat to focus on the boy huddled in close to him. “Hey,” he said softly, “It’s okay.”  
  
Kyle sighed defeatedly and nodded, feeling everyone staring at him and biting his lip. “It’s cool, Broflovski,” Craig said nonchalantly, grabbing the redhead’s attention. “You know how many times we’ve all fallen over just because we’ve been drunk off our asses?” The others laughed and nodded at the memories flooding through. Kyle blushed again and grunted, struggling back up and working his way onto the couch, Kenny gently moving him into the middle to sit beside both himself and Stan.  
  
Cartman snorted, “Hey, Jew,” he said. He glanced over, seeing Kyle looking down at the ground and he raised his brow. “Jewrat,” he tried again. “Uhh...hey, Kike.” Still no response. “Kahl?” Nothing.   
  
Stan poked Kyle a bit and the boy looked at him with wide eyes. “Hey, Cartman’s trying to say something to you,” he indicated. Kyle blinked, looking over towards the brunette still gaping at him in confusion.  
  
“A-anyway,” he stammered, a little lost with not having Kyle ready to attack him for his offensive word choice, for not being able to recognize something he’d been called for so many years. “Remember when you got so trashed you hit on that guy from Conifer High in front of his girlfriend?” he cackled. The others laughed with him, aside from Kyle, who looked like a child handed the schematic for a rocket. Why were they laughing? What was Cartman even talking about? He furrowed his brow in thought, trying to piece the words together to make a picture, but he just couldn’t seem to do it. Cartman trailed off awkwardly, “I guess you don’t. I don’t blame you. I’d want to forget if I went after someone like a sex-starved dog, too.”  
  
Kyle flinched at the word, his head shooting around, looking for Damien in panic. “Not **your** dog... _Damien’s_ ,” he hissed at the glutton.  
  
They all recoiled a bit at the sudden emotion spiking through the fragile redhead, looking at each other and blinking slowly. “K-Ky?” Kenny said slowly, gently placing his hand on his arm. “He didn’t mean it literally. You’re _no one’s_ dog, okay?” he asked, his face dropping as Kyle’s hand went up and rubbed at his throat, biting his lip nervously. He grabbed Kyle’s hand from his neck and brought it down into the boy’s lap, clasping onto it tightly and taking a long breath. He didn’t know how to break him out of this. He didn’t know what else he could do but keep assuring him that he was no one’s property, but he had no idea how to undo the massive brainwashing the kid had underwent.  
  
Stan’s shoulders dropped and he patted Kyle’s arm lightly, opening his container and getting slammed in the face with the smell of nostalgia. He shuddered a bit, tossing everyone a treat. He handed one to Kyle and the boy stared at it, Stan letting out a long sigh. “Kyle, you can-”  
  
“No, Stan,” Cartman interrupted him, glaring at the redhead. “Kahl, no one is going to tell you whether or not to eat that cookie. You have to get there yourself.”  
  
Kenny frowned, “Cartman, he won’t-”  
  
“He needs to relearn this shit,” he interjected with a jerk of his brow. “I’m not yelling at him, I’m not being ‘mean’ or some shit.”  
  
Clyde nodded softly, “I hate to admit it, but he’s right. Kyle needs to relearn free will, and you guys indulging whatever that freak did to him isn’t going to help him any.”  
  
Kenny and Stan looked at each other with equivocal faces. Were they supposed to just never let Kyle eat? Kyle looked down at the cookie in his hand, staring at it so intensely they wondered if he was going to burn a hole right through the dessert. He took a deep breath, his thumb rubbing over the shining metal cane still held tightly in his hand. His stance dropped and he leaned forward, putting the cookie on the coffee table silently and backing away from it. His eyes screamed in hunger for just a taste of the treat, but he knew better. No eating without permission, even taking the dispensation from people other than Damien was walking a fine line, he wasn’t about to push the envelope any farther. He looked up with dull eyes, staring at the flickering television as the rest of the group stared at him in disappointment.  
  
“I really thought that would work,” Token commented softly.  
  
Kenny rubbed Kyle’s back a bit and sighed tiredly. “Yeah. I was hoping. You’ll get there one day, Kyle, I promise.” The redhead looked over at him and the blonde cocked his head at a flash through the boy’s eyes. It was surreal, like an iota of the old Kyle just beamed through. A gleam of determination, of _anger_ pushing through the deadened jade gaze for just a fraction of a second. He wondered if he’d imagined it, if his heart was just trying too hard to convince himself that he could save the boy. But then his affirmation came, a slight movement of Kyle’s lips brought his ice-blue eyes down and they widened. Kyle was biting the inside of his lip. He only did that when he was trying to compose himself, when he was fighting to maintain whatever bit of kindness he had left before getting into a full-fledged brawl with someone. He’d seen it multiple times in confrontations between the boy and Cartman. It was a more than welcome sight. It was light, not nearly as passionate as Kyle usually made it, but it was _there_. He grinned happily, everyone else in the room lost as to the sudden shift of his expression.  
  
“Ken, what is it?” Stan asked in concern with a mouth full of crumbling cookie.  
  
He smiled at the noirette, “He’s biting the inside of his lip, Stan,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion.  
  
Stan slowly joined his expression, both of them trembling with unshed tears as the rest of the group looked at each other in loss. “The fuck are you two gaywads talking about?” Cartman blinked.  
  
Stan smiled wider, gently letting Kyle know he was behind him before wrapping his arms around him. Kyle blinked as Kenny did the same on his other side, the redhead looking between the both of them in complete loss. Stan sighed happily, gripping around the boy just a tad tighter. It was only the first shovelful, but it was _progress_. “He’s still in here. And we’re gonna get him out.”  
  


* * *

  
  
**Day 178**  
  
His arms were going to come off, there was no doubt in his clouded mind. They were going to rip from the skin, delicate muscle and nerves were going to be torn asunder, and he would land back on the floor in a dismembered, bloody heap. He hissed out a soft cry, his head lolling back, staring up at his arms suspended above his head. His left shoulder was throbbing excruciatingly, he couldn’t feel his hands anymore. The binding around his wrists and forearms rubbed him raw, his circulation beyond gone. His breathing was shallow, his ribcage stretched as he hung suspended a mere inch off of the stone floor. He grimaced, wishing he had the control of his legs to bend his toes down just a smidge, just to give him that little bit of a standing.   
  
He didn’t even know how long he’d been kept like this, Damien waiting for weeks until his venom had subsided to mere tingling, to where Kyle could move with very careful effort. Next thing the redhead knew, he was being torn up into the air and Damien had walked out of the room in silence. He knew it had to have been a few days at _least_. He tried sighing, the breath coming out in a wavering stream. He didn’t know how he possibly couldn’t have passed out by now. He knew well enough what killed you in a crucifixion, it suffocated you. Why couldn’t he have that? Why couldn’t he just choke to death and go on like he was supposed to? He prayed for it; _begged_ for that wonderful, promising relief... But it seemed Damien was right, God wasn’t too interested in being his guiding light out of this one.  
  
His door opened and he tried growling, failing miserably and just accepting it. His chest hurt enough, putting it through unnecessary strain was just foolish at this point. Damien stepped in and looked him up and down approvingly, a sly grin over his face. “And just how _is_ my pet today?” he asked innocently. Kyle glowered at him, too tired and too busy fighting off the impending loss of his appendages to care with making a retort. Damien smirked, walking in front of him and holding his hand out. Kyle watched with blurred eyes as a long, heavy metal stick appeared in his palm, the last few inches glowing that same red as Damien’s eyes. “I suggest you answer me, Pup,” he said plainly. Kyle just stared at him, too disoriented to put together the pieces of what Damien was saying. The demon shrugged, “Very well.” He grinned maliciously, rearing back his hand and striking Kyle with the burning metal. Kyle’s airway suddenly burst open, his voice echoing around them as the sting of the hit and the burning of his flesh began to set into his tired form. Tears fell down his cheeks rapidly, trying to squirm with his upended arms.  
  
“Stop!” he screamed. “Fucking STOP!”   
  
Damien chuckled savagely, pulling the brand from his waist, running his finger over the searing red mark. “Beautiful,” he murmured to himself before looking at his captive and laughing a bit. “Funny how I have you lifted off the ground...and you’re still below me, isn’t it, my pet?” Kyle gritted his teeth in silence and Damien raised his brows, rearing back the rod once more in warning.  
  
“I’m fucking short, I know,” he hissed, trying to shake off his tears but unable to do so in his agony.  
  
Damien snorted, running his fingers through Kyle’s hair. The redhead snarled, biting his inner lip and shaking his head like a madman, trying to escape the touch. Damien shook his head and tutted his tongue, leaning down towards Kyle’s face. “Remember, little one,” he drawled menacingly, pressing the hot bar not an inch from Kyle’s exposed chest. Kyle gulped, looking at Damien with wide eyes as he could feel the heat making his skin curl. “I choose what happens to you.” he narrowed his vision. “I choose when you eat, when you sleep, when you talk, and what I touch. Do you understand me?”  
  
Kyle’s jaw trembled, knowing full and well that the demon wasn’t fucking around. He couldn’t help his insurgency from rising rapidly inside of him, however. He just didn’t operate like this. He didn’t take orders, he didn’t do _anything_ without good reason to. And Damien was _far_ from having a good reason to keep him like this. “What do you want?” he breathed out heavily, never taking his eyes from the demon’s.  
  
Damien chuckled, moving the stick behind the captive boy and holding it near his back. “I want you to agree to a little teaching exercise, my pup.”  
  
Kyle’s eyes flickered towards the stick held behind him, felt the way his arms were stretched to their limits, his body still swaying a bit from his last hit. He took a steadying breath, his teeth grating against his lip worriedly. He had two options here, and only one of them possibly wouldn’t result in him getting hurt even worse. “What do I get if I agree?” he demanded.  
  
Damien raised his brow, surprised at his small dose of compliance. It made him crave it all the more. That first taste was always just _so_ delectable. He licked over his fangs and smirked, “You get my affections of course.”  
  
“That’s not much of a win for me, now is it?” he spat angrily out of instinct. He lurched a bit, his rage melting into pure, blinding pain as the smoldering metal pressed into his shoulder blade. He howled, quaking in place, unable to run, unable to kick, unable to do anything but just sit there and take it. He slammed his eyes shut and billowed with heartsick sobs, knowing well enough that that was Damien’s end game: to make him just _take it_. “Stop!” he screamed hoarsely, shaking his head around in disorientation. The pain was making him dizzy, his head was singing, his skin slowly melting away as Damien calmly watched the complete emotional overrun of his captive.  
  
“Say ‘please, Master’, and I will,” he said blandly. Kyle furrowed his brows and took sharp breaths through his teeth, yowling as Damien reared back and smashing his weapon into a new spot, slamming into his spine with a heavy _thwack_. “You _know_ how to make this stop, Pup,” he continued patiently. “I can do this all day, and you will, too unless you comply with me.”  
  
Kyle sobbed tormentedly, his head falling back and looking up at his bound arms once again. He could feel the tears leaking down his neck, following the pattern of his now-jutting collarbone. He was out of options. He was out of pain tolerance. He was going completely out of his _mind_. He sibilated angrily, shuddering at the mix of heat and pure loss. “Please... _Master_ ,” he seethed through his teeth, his antagonism spiking violently within him. He choked a bit as the metal was immediately removed from his flesh, his head falling back forward. He convulsed in a few more agonized cries, his humiliation reaching new heights with the word that so forcefully had to slip off his tongue. It tasted like turpentine, leaving a stale, bitter linger on his palate.  
  
His chin was pulled up and he found himself looking blearily at Damien’s smug grin. He growled half-heartedly, his neck going limp in the demon’s hold. “So _very_ good,” he praised. He shook Kyle’s head to get his eyes back and locked in his and he chuckled. “Now, we’re going to play a game, my pup.” Kyle tensed. He didn’t like the sound of that. Not at _all_. “This game is very simple. I will ask you questions, and you will answer them in a way you know I would find suitable. Do you understand?” Kyle looked from him to the burning stick still clutched in his clawed fingers and took a deep, shaking breath. He nodded briskly, shutting his eyes in embarrassment. Damien shook him back and looked at him warningly, “ _Answer_ the question, my pet.”  
  
“Yes. I understand.” he said steadily, trying desperately to control his overwhelming desire to somehow snap Damien’s neck. He knew better, he knew he wouldn’t accomplish anything but more pain upon himself.  
  
“Good boy,” he murmured, petting his hair once again, pleasantly delighted when Kyle just shut his eyes and took deep, even breaths through his nose at the action. “Should you play the game well, I will let you back down to sleep once again. Does that sound fair?”  
  
“Yes,” he seethed, looking down at the ground in ire.   
  
“Good,” he smirked. “Now, first question: Who do you belong to?”  
  
Kyle resisted the temptation to roll his eyes, remembering his predicament. This wasn’t a fight over Jews with Cartman. This wasn’t a battle with Stan over who got the last slice of pizza. There were true, honest-to-god consequences here. “You,” he said softly.  
  
“The whole thing, Pup.”  
  
Kyle groaned subtly under his breath and gritted his teeth. “I belong...dammit...to you.”  
  
“Excellent,” he praised. Kyle jolted as a piece of cooked meat was shoved up towards his face. He blinked at it, feeling the enmity starting to boil once more. He was literally training him with treats...but it smelled _so_ good. He hadn’t had anything cooked in so long. Nothing but raw meat and bread...he felt his stomach curl at the promise of food and he cringed as much into himself as he possibly could. He hadn’t eaten since before the venom wore off, he was so fucking hungry. Beating down his pride, he opened his mouth shakily and Damien pulled it back, smiling at him darkly. He slapped the stick against Kyle’s hip, but pulled it away before it could begin burning his skin. The slap was still brutal enough to make more tears well in green eyes and a small yelp to escape his lips. “You _wait_ for permission before eating or drinking, my pet.” He held it back up in front of the redhead, watching gleefully as Kyle’s mouth remained closed, his nose twitching at the heavenly smell invading his senses.   
  
For nearly ten minutes they stayed like that, Damien amusedly watching Kyle’s reserve beginning to fail him, his eyes screaming protests against the taunting. He couldn’t help but be impressed, however, of how the boy was fighting down his anger, trying so very hard to control himself. He grinned, he was _learning_. “Good,” he nodded. “You may eat,” he said pressing the steak into Kyle’s mouth. Kyle practically attacked the sustenance, his taste buds singing the praises of cooked meat. It was over all too soon as he swallowed it down, licking his lips and wishing that he had more to sate his now growing appetite. “What do you say?” Damien asked expectantly.  
  
“Thank you,” he muttered.  
  
“Thank you...” he raised his brows at him, waving the stick in his view.  
  
Kyle took a deep breath, shaking his head and letting his eyes fall to the floor. “Thank you, Master,” he said quietly, his face flushing over.  
  
Damien shuddered at the utterance, a part of him wanting to rip the boy down from his chains and have his way with him right then and there. But no. No, he wanted that to come at a later time. A time when his proper title would be implanted within the boy, when he wouldn’t be able to think of the demon without remembering just who he was, even if he didn’t believe it yet. “Good,” he smiled, holding up another piece of meat. “You may eat it.”   
  
Kyle did so, each chew sending him deeper into his spiral of shame. He wondered how his friends would react if they saw him like this. If they saw him of all people reduced to someone so _pathetic_. He swallowed and sighed, “Thank you, Master.” He wasn’t stupid. He knew this game. Cartman did it to him a number of times with bets lost in the past. He couldn’t talk his way out of this one, though. He couldn’t turn it around against Damien and make himself the winner. He was just going to have to be pulled along, the tugboat against the overwhelming barge that was the demon.  
  
“ **Very** good,” Damien grinned widely, petting his curls. “Now, look at me.” Kyle’s emerald eyes raised up, clashing tiredly with the garnets of his opponent. “Whenever I do something for you, you are to respond thusly, am I clear?”  
  
“Yes...” he paused as Damien looked at him in anticipation. “Master,” he finished with an exhausted breath. He just wanted the sleep he was promised. Words didn’t matter. Words didn’t hurt him, not physically. He could take more strain on his mental capacity, but his body was definitely reaching its limits.   
  
“Whenever I ask you a question, whenever you say something to me, you are to address me properly,” he said, smirking at the withering boy. He knew he wasn’t winning still. He knew that Kyle would be right back to his angered antics once he got down from his hold. But this was too much to pass up, much too delectable a treat to ignore. He smiled, “As a mercy, should it be a long conversation between the two of us, I will allow you a fine-eyed number of phrases without the title. I think that sounds fair, don’t you, my pet?”  
  
“Yes,” he sneered slightly, for some reason feeling a surge of victory from that.  
  
Damien chuckled, “And there goes your allotment for today. Now,” he reached up and flicked Kyle’s numbed arm. “I gather you want to get down and get some rest, do you not?”  
  
“Yes, Master,” he rolled his eyes. Damien let it pass, more than pleased with the phrase rolling so beautifully off of that tongue to not feel the slightest bit of irritation for his disrespect.   
  
“Well then,” he smiled, holding another piece of steak under his nose, watching the boy’s face drop slightly, his eyes raising up into the demon’s gaze. “I guess you better do well with your training today,” he said. “Lucky for you, we’re going to have _all_ day to practice.”  
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Present Day - Week 7**  
  
Heading up to the window through his parasitic creatures had proven to be a daunting task on each of his ‘trips’. He knew they’d never let him fall, but slithering up the wall, his body broken apart into little strands as they moved as a collective unit was surreal. Gravity meant nothing, reality was a pipe dream when caught in the warm enclave of Damien’s gifted minions. He sighed, the creatures showing him the view within Craig’s window and he bit his lip. He was sleeping. Good. That’d make this a little easier on himself.  
  
“ _Celare mundi,_ ”  he muttered, watching as he was seeped into blackness emerging in through the wall to the silence of the bedroom, Craig’s room now cut off from sounds and views of the outside world. The air for himself was purely stifling. Craig would have the luxury of his dream-like state, Kyle, however, was not rewarded with such privileges. He was bound to reality, to the sinking feeling of what he was about to do. He sighed, feeling the creatures lift him up and over Craig’s bed to hide in the inky shadows splayed about. He looked down at the noirette, captivated by the difference of appearance without the boys trademark blue chullo. “ _Tenebrae tegant mortale accidat,_ ” he whispered, watching the various lights from Craig’s phone and alarm clock flicking off. He nodded, returning his attention to the boy. “ _Ut eum se rutilo ignorantiam,_ ” he licked his lips, watching Craig’s body arch a bit as the spell slammed into him, letting out a long, hazy groan. The boy curled into himself and Kyle directed the creatures to place him down onto the floor.  
  
“ _Regredior,_ ” he ordered, the vines beginning to congregate among one another. Tangles of color began to place him back together from the ground up. He took a deep, cleansing breath as he could feel the energy seeping back into him from their efforts. He wondered vaguely how the creatures could do that to him, how they could dismantle and repair him with so little effort. A part of him wanted to ask Damien, but he knew his master was never fond of sharing the secrets of Hell with him. He amassed on Craig’s rug, the vines falling off of him and scattering out of sight. He hated this next part, he knew he’d remember little of what he did, scattered memories of his misdoings would flitter about once he was back in his weakened body. He ran his fingers through his hair and stared at Craig for a moment before a simple, somber “ _me ducere ad vitam_ ” left his lips. He gasped, his body lit with its glowing golden energy, his confidence spiking within him. His mind became all but blank with one thought: _Take the mortal, serve your master_.  
  
The red of his eyes glowed as he made his way to Craig, touching his face, tilting his head up towards him. Craig stirred, shaking his head in disorientation and looking at him with squinted eyes. “Broflovski?” he whispered, bringing a hand up to hold his head. “The fuck are...” he groaned, trying to sit himself up and break himself out of his stupor. Kyle assisted him on the way up and smiled at him softly.  
  
“ _Indica mihi etiam cupiditates mecum,_ ” he whispered, watching with interest as Craig’s grey eyes began to widen, his pupils shrinking down into pinpoints. The boy’s mouth dropped hungrily, staring at Kyle like he wanted nothing more than to devour him whole. Kyle couldn’t help but shiver, only used to Damien staring at him like that; Like he was an object to be taken and used. He let his incantation on himself press him forward smoothly as he brushed Craig’s black, wavy hair out of his face. He scanned over Craig’s expression, his fingers lingering on the boy providing him with the images flashing through Craig’s mind. He gulped. Bruises. A _lot_ of bruises. Some blood.  
  
This one wasn’t going to be easy on him.  
  
Craig’s desire suddenly swarmed into him, every ounce of lust clawing at him like starving rats feasting through his intestines. He had to shake his head, regaining his focus and staring down at the boy in front of him. He wanted to taste him. He wanted to _demand_ for Craig to use him to his whim. It was an unnatural feeling, but his body soaked it in like a second skin. It filled him to the brim, green and red sparkling with a force matching Craig’s thirst. He threaded his thin fingers through Craig’s hair, pulling him up further towards his face. He leaned down, biting roughly on the boy’s bottom lip, breathing in harsh wisps against him. “What are you waiting for?” he demanded. “I know what you want.”  
  
Craig’s grey eyes sparked, hands flying up and grabbing Kyle’s arms tightly. He pushed the redhead back, fumbling onto his feet and staring down at him with such intensity Kyle nearly shied away. But something held him there. He wasn’t sure what, but the moment was far too tense for him to let his mind linger on it. Craig shuddered, unblinking at the boy. “Why...how did...?” he questioned, the incantation still worming its way through his system.  
  
“You want me,” he hissed, feeling a spark of anger and control that he hadn’t felt in so long. “You’re dreaming, Craig. You want me to be _yours_. You want to take me.”  
  
His lips curled into a snarky grin, grabbing the boy’s arms tighter and making him wince. Craig pulled his closer towards his chest, looking the naked, glowing figure up and down. He nodded subtly to himself and chuckled in a low, grating tone that Kyle felt was unfamiliar on the monotonous boy’s tongue. “Guess so,” he agreed before grunting and shoving Kyle down onto the rug in a mess of limbs. Kyle looked up, licking his lips before a hand tangled in his curls, dragging him over to the far wall. He yelped as Craig threw him against it, his chest pressed against the plaster. Craig knelt down behind him and a hand quickly wrapped around his throat, clenching tightly. Kyle groaned, his head thrown back against Craig’s shoulder as his air was limited from him.  
  
“Craig,” he moaned, pressing his hips back against the growing erection in Craig’s boxers.  
  
The noirette snarled, grinding against his bared ass feverishly. “That’s right,” he growled, biting on Kyle’s shoulder. The redhead hissed, feeling the skin break and a trail of his toxic blood trailing down his back. “You like moaning my name, don’t you, Broflovski?”  
  
“Uh huh,” he gritted his teeth, feeling his emotions spiraling out of his control. He wanted to touch Craig. He wanted to stare into his eyes, wanted to feel his cock pushed inside of him. He wanted _everything_. He bit his lip and grunted, pressing his hands against the wall and firmly fretting back against him.  
  
Craig laughed that throaty laugh once again and Kyle shuddered. “You want it, huh?” he demanded, clenching around his neck tighter. Kyle rasped in slight panic and a blast of hormones jumping in his skin, feeling his cock growing harder at the loss. “Tell me you want it, Broflovski.” He loosened his grip only enough for Kyle’s words to seep out as he sank his canines into the slender neck resting on his shoulder.  
  
“I want it,” he snapped impatiently, bringing his hands off the wall and reaching back, clawing at Craig desperately over his shoulders. His nails scraped along Craig’s bare, muscled back and he shivered at the feeling of the tensed, toned skin. He needed this. Every part of him was _screaming_ for it.  
  
“Tell me _what_ you want,” he ordered, reaching down and grabbing Kyle’s cock, brushing his thumb over the head and making the redhead gasp in shock.  
  
He shot his eyes to the boy, whose focus was locked on his heated skin in his palm. “I want you to fuck me,” he said.  
 Craig smirked, pulling off his cock and ripping him back from the wall, twisting him to look at him from an awkward angle. He watched Kyle wince at the strain on his back, but his eyes still firing with a desire to get things moving. He snarled, slamming his lips onto the boy’s and biting fiercely, drawing blood and licking it up with an eager tongue. Kyle moaned into his mouth and it did nothing but draw him further. He reached around Kyle’s stomach, grabbing his thin waist with a firm hand and swiveling him around. He slammed his back into the wall, still prodding with his tongue and dominating through his teeth. Kyle moaned, spreading his legs around him and fighting back just as violently. His hands went down on their own accord, ripping down Craig’s boxers and letting them fall around his knees. The redhead gasped, breaking from Craig’s mouth for just a moment to let out an urgent “ _inlitus_ ” before taking his place back on his lips once more. He felt the warming lubricant seeping out from his palm and grabbed Craig’s blazing, rock hard skin.   
  
Craig moaned and rocked into his hand, grabbing Kyle’s lip and shaking his head like a starved animal. “Yeah, just like that,” he grunted, his hand running up and ripping through scarlet curls, tearing his head down to the side. His teeth moved down and bit on the exposed throat viciously. Kyle hissed, his body arching up in pleasure. “I’m gonna fuck you,” he promised, sucking harshly on Kyle’s neck. “Gonna throw you against the wall and make you _mine_.”  
  
“Then do it,” Kyle challenged, his entire body lit aflame by his spiel. He moaned loudly as Craig pushed his hand off of his cock, running his own palm through Kyle’s secretion and grasping him back. They both groaned as each hand jerked and tugged the other with a heady mix of animalistic cravings. Kyle’s hips bounced off the floor a bit, his back sliding against the wall as he panted. He looked to see Craig staring at him, his grey eyes becoming glass in the glow of the moon. He leaned up and nipped at his chin hungrily. “Fuck me, Craig,” he said. “If you think you’re man enough to take me then _fucking do it_.”  
  
Craig smirked, releasing Kyle’s cock and shoving his boxers the rest of the way off his legs. He quickly pulled from the redhead’s grasp, fingers once again tangling in the sweaty, curled mess and ripping him up onto his feet. He turned him yet again and shoved against his shoulders, watching Kyle smash into the wall with a pained groan, shaking his head a bit. “Spread your legs,” he mandated. Kyle compliantly did so, feeling Craig rubbing the globes of his ass before his hand ripped up and slapped the pale skin. Kyle lurched with a yelp, his head smacking against the wall once again. He tried to pull himself up before Craig’s hand on the back of his neck forced him back down. “Don’t you fuckin’ move,” he snarled. Hands suddenly gripped between his thighs, stretching them further apart and lowering his hips. He could feel the slicked head of Craig’s cock rubbing against his entrance and bit his lip, knowing that he wasn’t properly prepped, and this was going to hurt. But something inside him shoved down his hesitation and he grunted as Craig just barely poked into him, thrusting his hips back and impaling himself with a long-winded screech.  
  
Craig gasped for breath at the sudden envelopment of warmth surrounding his cock, his hand wrapping back around the front of Kyle’s throat. He grunted and began thrusting rapidly, lost in the tightness pulling him in. Kyle sneered, shaking his head around as the invasion propelled him against the plaster, his fingernails scraping down against navy blue paint. “There, there!” he pleaded. “Fuck, don’t fucking stop, Craig!”  
  
“Don’t plan on it, Princess,” he hissed, grabbing tighter around his neck for leverage and pounding away. The sound of his hips slamming against Kyle’s firm ass was echoing around them, the entire world seeming to fall in time with the propulsions. The redhead’s body was swimming in confusion. It hurt, it fucking _hurt_. There was no pleasure, but he just couldn’t _stop_. He needed Craig to keep going, needed to feel himself being filled to the brim with his cock. Nothing made sense at that point, he just wanted to keep Craig going.  
  
“Fuck,” he whimpered, pushing back against the impetus movement with equally-matched vigor. He felt himself stretched to his limits, his body drawing Craig in like a siren song. His throat bobbed as he gulped under Craig’s calloused hand. He gritted his teeth, his breathing hot and heavy as it rebounded off the wall into his face, soaking his skin in the midst of his abuse. He didn’t know where it came from, didn’t know why his body was betraying him, but he growled at the boy behind him, “That all you fuckin’ got?!”  
  
Craig never lost his rhythm as he looked at the redhead with a starved, maniacal gaze. “Keep down,” he hissed, grabbing Kyle’s wrists and tugging his arms back behind him, holding them taut as he thrust into him madly. Kyle screamed out, his head lolling in complete over-stimulation. Craig’s cock was like a hot brand, marking him from the inside. His breaths began to fall out through his teeth in harsh, angry emanations. His arms were wrenched back so uncomfortably that he thought he was going to lose them both. But fuck he couldn’t stop. What was happening to him?  
  
Craig suddenly picked up more speed and Kyle couldn’t control his shaking. It was too fast. It was just _too_ rough. Fingers tightened into his delicate flesh, flowering bruises spreading along his frail wrists. His legs were quaking, his ass becoming brutally marked via over-eager hips. “Oh god,” he whispered, feeling pained tears beading on curvaceous lashes. He wanted Craig to stop. He never wanted to let go of this feeling. He was so lost in his inner turmoil, he barely noticed as Craig let go of his wrists, letting him crash into the wall. A strong hand came down _hard_ on his ass and he screeched in pain. Nails scratched against his sides, sharp enough to draw blood through minute markings.   
  
“Beg for more,” Craig demanded.  
  
‘ _No_!’ he thought before his mouth betrayed him, “Fuck me harder! Give me more, Craig!” His mouth gaped in a silent scream as his curls were ensnared, ripping at the roots, his body accommodating the unwelcome guest with gusto. Kyle vaguely noticed his own cock had gone nearly limp, his body racked with complete torment. He wanted to scream for the boy to stop, why couldn’t he?!  
  
“Gonna cum,” Craig muttered with a harsh, hateful taste to his tone.  
  
Kyle nearly sobbed in relief, his cheek slamming time and again into the wall. He clenched his muscles tightly around his cock like a vice, trying to force out Craig’s finale.  He reached back, placing a hand against Craig’s heaving chest and gritting his teeth as he waited for the telltale signs of him losing it. He felt Craig’s movements becoming jarred, his breathing nearly stopping. He needed it _quicker_. “Cum in my ass, Craig,” he spat, pushing his unwilling hips back against him. “Fucking cum inside me!” He felt the words working their magic and turned to lock eyes with him, breathing out angrily, “ _Hoc animae pertinet ad dominum meum_!” Craig continued his rhythm, Kyle feeling him releasing deep inside of him and shuddering. Craig’s eyes began to glow a ghoulish grey and he pulled out of Kyle, shaking and staring at him with terrified eyes before slumping and falling onto the ground in a heap at the redhead’s feet.   
  
Kyle’s body lurched with that strange burst of energy before all-too-familiar feelings replaced his carnal cravings. Complete terror, utter anxiety at what he’d done. Confusion, pain, everything that had become just another part of him the last two years, only stronger. Only with a hold over him that he couldn’t seem to break away from. He tried moving off the wall before falling over into a crumpled pile, his body convulsing a bit with the influx of power that was seeping into his bones, wiring itself into his soul. He gasped, tears leaking down the sides of his cheeks. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see. Something went terribly wrong. “ _Mas...ter..._ ” he could barely work out. Was this it? Was he finally dying? Was he finally going to be free?  
  
He felt a hand encircle his wrist and pull him up, a warm glow overpowering his broken body. Nothing seemed to make sense, he couldn’t put together any semblance of what was happening to him. He began fading off, his head falling back in complete exhaustion in his holder’s grasp. As he drifted away into a cotton-head filled stupor, his last thought couldn’t help but be a prayer that this was the sweet release he so desperately wanted.  
  


* * *

  
  
**Day 239**  
  
He stared down at the floor tiredly. The puddle and pile that lied before him called his name, tempting him desperately to taste upon their succulence. Damien had left it there nearly six days beforehand after another two weeks of deprivation. His mouth watered, his stomach growled. But trying to sneak a piece of the bread four days earlier had resulted in a severe beating that left his right eye nearly swollen shut. Blank green eyes traced over the jolting outlines of his food. Damien had ordered him to keep staring at his accumulation after his last little bout of disobiedence. Staring at puddles for almost a week was definitely taking a toll on his nerves. He sighed, itching at the collar still fastened around his neck, wondering if he’d ever get to take it off.  
  
“Being good, my pet?” that damn voice boomed through the room suddenly. Kyle took a deep breath, shutting his eyes and trying to control his anger. “Well?” it came again, the imperious force coming up beside him.  
  
“Yes, Master,” he forced out evenly. This game had been going on for far too long. He was ready to just get to another team already.  
  
“Good boy,” Damien praised, petting through his hair. Kyle just sighed again, opening his eyes again and staring at the food and water longingly. “What is it, Pup?” the demon smirked.  
  
“May I please eat, Master?” he asked exhaustedly. He just wanted his fucking food and water. He wanted his basic human rights. Regardless of what species Damien was so adamant in calling him, he was still fucking human.  
  
“Hm,” Damien looked up thoughtfully. “What have you done to earn it?”  
  
Kyle tensed and growled lowly, looking up at him with sparking eyes. “I’ve been very compliant with your fucking stupid-ass rules, _Master_ ,” he seethed. “I’ve called you what you fucking want, I’ve been staring at these piles for fucking forever! Just let me fucking eat!” he demanded.  
  
Damien snorted, rolling his eyes. “You know, doggies don’t get to choose their schedules. They have to follow their owner’s.”  
  
“What do you even _do_ all day?” he frowned. “Just sit around watching me? Fucking get a life you piece of shit!” He realized his mistake with an expectant glare from glowing red eyes and gulped. “I-I...Master?” he tried finishing his sentence with a wince.  
  
Damien smirked, “You’re lucky I’m feeling so generous today, my pet. One more slip up of my title again and a blackened eye will be the least of your problems.” Kyle just rolled his eyes and looked back at his piles with a grim face. “Now then,” Damien continued, putting his hand down in Kyle’s hair and rubbing his head. “It’s time for another lesson. And afterwards, you may eat. How does that sound?”  
  
“Just peachy, Master,” he grumbled, feeling the claws gently scraping against his scalp and letting out a frustrated breath. God he wanted to grow claws like that. Grow them and slash open Damien’s throat, watch him bleed out onto the damn stone floor that he was just so sick of.  
  
He watched as Damien left his side, walking to the other side of his prison. The demon grinned as he leaned against the back wall and stared at him. “This is another very easy lesson, my pet. We’re going to practice you coming to me as soon as you see me.”  
  
Kyle frowned, “Not easy to do when I’m chained all the time, Assclown.” He froze in realization as Damien’s eyes glowed and he felt himself being lifted and flying to the opposite side of the dungeon, slamming down into the stone. He cried out, holding his throbbing head and looking at Damien through pained panting.  
  
“What do you say, Pup?” he asked dangerously low.  
  
“S-sorry, Master,” he tried to speak out angrily, but the pain reduced it to a soft whimper. He shuddered. It sounded so pathetic. It sounded like for a moment, he truly thought himself as less than the monster standing across the room from him. That was the absolute last idea he needed to pass through his head. He struggled to get himself onto the sides of his legs, watching the demon carefully. He had to play this safer. He kept walking too fine a line, kept getting himself hit and kicked and branded and whatever other mess Damien thought up for him. It’s one thing to get attacked on Earth, but here...here he had no _chance_ of fighting back. It was a harsh realization, but one that was a long time coming in his position.  
  
“Now,” Damien resumed his calm demeanor. He raised his hand and curled his finger at Kyle. “Come, Doggie.” Kyle bristled, his temper beginning to rise. He felt the collar around his neck, the loss of control of his lower legs, saw the piles on the floor, and he shook with fury. A screech worked out between his teeth, biting so firmly on the inside of his lip that he was sure it’d leave a nice bump for the next week. “I said _come_ ,” Damien commanded, beginning to lose his patience.  
  
Kyle’s face blossomed with fire and he sighed. He stared at the floor as he slowly, carefully began to crawl towards the demon. This was the most movement he’d had in months. It fucking hurt. His still-throbbing calves sang angrily against being used. The words on his hands, still in constant threat about being split open, were protesting the feeling of rock pressing beneath them. He felt humiliated tears welling in his eyes and quickly shook them away. Damien was getting enough out of him from this display, he didn’t need to add the cherry. He realized with the movement just how much his back hurt, how much he was stiffened all over. He wondered vaguely just how bad he looked. He knew there were plenty of bruises all over his skin, plenty of small scars, not to mention Damien’s words. He knew in particular there were teeth marks still etched into his side, burn marks on his hip and back. There was just too much to keep track of at this point. He wanted to block those out, wanted to forget _everything_. He sniffled quietly, continuing to fumble over across the room.  
  
He finally made it to Damien and stopped in front of him, refusing to lift his head. “Good boy,” he praised, twirling a curl around his finger. Kyle blankly stared at Damien’s shoes, wondering how he got to this point; How he’d gotten so low that he’d much rather be humiliated beyond his wildest dreams than get hit again. That wasn’t Kyle’s style, it never had been. He had always fought for _everything_ he believed in. What made this situation so fucking different? Just because there was more pain involved? His jaw dropped slightly as reality slowly began to sink in. Damien was training him, and he was doing it _well_.  
  
Fuck no.  
  
He looked up at the demon and found knowing garnet eyes gleaming at him deviously. “You’re learning,” he purred.  
  
“I want to go home,” he said firmly. “You’ve had your fun. Let. Me. Go.”  
  
He chuckled and shook his head, “You think with all your progress I’m just going to let you walk out of here, my little Kyle? No. No you’re here for eternity, and I’m going to get you trained enough that you’ll be jumping for joy every time you see me. Whenever the slightest inconvenience enters your line of sight, you’ll call for me to save you. You’re not going to think of anyone but me, my pet.”  
  
Kyle’s face twisted in disgust and he growled. “No, I will _not_ rely on you. I’m too strong for that.”  
  
Damien chuckled, bending down a tad with crossed arms and staring into determined acidic eyes. “Oh? Well look who’s stuck on the floor crawling around like my filthy little animal.”  
  
“You fucking cut my legs,” he spat. “I’d be running to fucking attack you if you hadn’t been a fucking cheater!”  
  
He quirked an amused brow, “Cheater, hm? I think not, my pet. It’s not cheating if you make the rules,” he grinned.  
  
Kyle tried beating down his imminent anger, remembering the pain he’d gone through. Remembering the piles of food on the floor. Remembering that he hadn’t slept in God knew how long. “I want you...to reset the board,” he managed to work out evenly.  
  
“Oh you do?” he mocked.  
  
“I want to have my body back,” he demanded, reaching up and grabbing Damien’s collar, tightening his fingers around it in a death grip. “I want to go home. I’ll fucking _find_ someone else on Earth for you to torture.”  
  
“Ah, someone you’re not fond of, hm? Someone like Eric Cartman?”  
  
Kyle frowned, “I’d rather spend ten fucking years locked in a room alone with Fatass than let you touch me again. He doesn’t fight fair, but that doesn’t matter. I can beat him.”  
  
He chuckled, “Admitting that you’re going to lose this battle, Pup?”  
  
He shook his head firmly. “Physically, I can’t fucking beat you. But you will _never_ have the control over me that you want so much. You’re too weak.”  
  
He shook his head amusedly and sighed with a tinge of happiness that made Kyle squint in confusion. “Ah, I’m so happy for this, my pup,” he said blissfully. “I knew from McCormick’s tales that you were stubborn, but I never imagined after all this time you’d still be fighting so very desperately.” He paused and an evil shadow pass over his beaming face. “But...do realize something, little Bulldog,” he said plainly. “You _are_ losing. Notice how you haven’t insulted me. Notice how you’re merely holding onto my shirt, not fighting. Notice how you haven’t given me your trademark growl this entire conversation. You’re losing yourself whether you see it or not...” he leaned down into Kyle’s face and smirked victoriously. “And you’re losing yourself to _me_.”  
  
The redhead blanched before his indignation blocked out the voice of reason trying so desperately to hold him back. He clenched his fist, sending it slamming into Damien’s cheek. He screamed in pain, shaking out his hand. It was like punching a fucking cinderblock! He hissed, looking up to find Damien unfazed, but staring him down like his next meal. Kyle gulped, starting to back away slowly on his knees. “I wouldn’t do that, Pup,” he warned. “I would stay right where you are and take your punishment unless you want it to be even worse.” Kyle froze, his jaw trembling. This was about to get bad, this was about to get _so_ terrible for him, he could smell it hanging around him staunchly in the air. Damien walked over and cupped his chin looking at him thoughtfully. “Now,” he started, tonguing over his lips. “You have _two_ choices, my pup. Be thankful I’m giving you options,” he added. “Do you promise to behave?” Kyle went rigid at the phrasing, but forced himself to nod. “Do you remember being poisoned?” he asked. “Answer fully.”  
  
“Yes, Master,” he winced, recalling quite clearly the searing pain. The way that his throat tried to seize, made him struggle for air for months before clearing again. He remembered being completely helpless.  
  
“Now,” he grinned in a way that sent ice through Kyle’s veins. “Either you relive that experience again...or you beg to suck my cock. Which will it be?”  
  
Kyle’s face dropped further, unable to comprehend his options, unable to understand how he of all people ended up in such a fucking disaster. “I-I...” he started hyperventilating, looking everywhere in his prison for an answer scribed on a wall or something of the sort. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t choose between pain and...and that. Damien using him while he was paralyzed was one thing, playing an active role in the process could damn well kill him inside.  
  
“Choose _now_ , Pup,” Damien commanded. “Or I will choose for you. And trust me, you’ll wish that you’d gone for the simpler option.”  
  
He didn’t like the sound of that. Damien didn’t often go back on his promises. Kyle shut his eyes, shaking in his place. “I-I...I want...to-”   
  
“No,” Damien cut him off giddily. “ _Beg_ for it.”  
  
Frustrated breaths whisked through his teeth and he felt his face burning with furious hatred. “Please...I want-”  
  
“With the proper title, Pup,” he interrupted again, unable to control the coil of pure excitement bursting through him at Kyle becoming undone. He watched tears beading his mortified expression. He was on the brink.  
  
“Please... _Master_...” he bit, his shoulders trembling out of his control. “I-I want...to...s-suck,” he faltered, biting his lip. Two more words. Just two more. Maybe it’d just be a word ‘lesson’. Maybe he wouldn’t have to actually do it. He could only pray. “Your cock,” he finished, beating down the ire so desperately rushing through his blood.  
  
“Very good, my pet,” Damien cooed, tangling his fingers through Kyle’s hair and ripping him up on his knees. He grinned devilishly and Kyle’s stomach sank. So much for that glimmer of hope. “And now, as a reward, you may get what you so desire,” he taunted. “Get to it, Pup.” He gestured to his jeans. Kyle blinked. He didn’t know what to do. He’d never done this before.  
  
He gulped, firmly reminding himself that it was either this or months worth of pain. Shakily, he reached forward, undoing Damien’s jeans, watching in horror at the thick cock bursting out into his view. It looked bigger than he remembered. It fucking intimidated him of all things. He began to breathe out of control at the twitching skin in front of him, staring at it with wide, terrified eyes. “Please don’t make me, Master,” he whispered, trying to pull out any stops to get him out of this mess.  
  
Damien pulled his face closer to the skin and chuckled. “You begged so beautifully for it, though,” he purred. “And you know your choices. If you truly _want_ me to render you helpless again, I shall. But I believe it’d be more beneficial for you to just use that pretty little mouth for me yourself, hm?” Kyle winced embarrassedly and gulped. He had a point. Either way, the beast in front of him was going to go into his mouth. Being able to move after the fact would probably be in his best interest, however. He sighed shakily, raising up higher on his knees and tonguing over his dried lips. He gulped, trying to moisten his mouth in his terrified state, unable to do so. Damien ripped his head back and placed his hand at his lips. Without his knowledge, Kyle’s mouth parted on its own, recoiling a bit in shock at water flowing down into his throat. He tore his head back down and coughed, wiping the water off his chin and shaking. “Now you will have a simpler time, Pup,” Damien said cheekily. “Aren’t I a _kind_ master?”  
  
Kyle lowered his vision, nodding silently. He sighed, staring once again at the dick hanging in his face. Forcing down his oscillating nerves, he reached a frail hand up, grabbing along the hot skin. He bit his lip, leaning forward and dragging his tongue over the head of Damien’s cock. He began tracing it all over, doing his damnedest to ignore the bitter, staunch taste all over his palate.  
  
“Good doggie,” Damien breathed, both hands curling in his hair. “Now that you have a taste, you have permission to enjoy it,” he derided maliciously. Kyle sniffled, opening his jaw and taking him in a bit. He had no fucking idea what he was doing. He hadn’t done this with anyone, hell, he hadn’t even seen porn in God knew how long. He beat away his confusion, reminding himself dryly that he was a kinesthetic learner. He’d just have to figure it out and get it over with.   
  
He suckled on Damien’s head, slowly and carefully bobbing his head down the thick cock. He tried desperately to remember what the guys in his pornography romps did, starting to hollow his cheeks, his tongue fluidly surrounding the invasion. He tried taking Damien in further, stopped by his gag reflex only about halfway down the cock. He groaned as bile tried to rise from his throat and pushed it down. Puking on Damien’s dick was definitely not going to earn him brownie points.  
  
His groan of derision made Damien shudder, feeling it vibrate through his dick. “Good Pup,” he whispered, fingers ensnared in Kyle’s wild hair. Kyle took this as a sign to keep doing what he was doing, beginning to quicken his pace a bit. The faster he did this, the faster it’d be over with. Simple biology. That’s _all_ this was...at least that’s what he’d keep telling himself. He pulled off for a moment to spit in his hand, ignoring Damien nearly protesting the loss of his mouth before retaking him, pumping on his base that he couldn’t reach. Damien let out a throaty, happy moan and Kyle nearly sighed in relief. Happy Damien meant no beatings. No beatings meant sleep. Sleep meant he could fight once he got his strength back.  
  
He tried to place himself mentally with someone else, someone who _loved_ him, someone who’d take care of him in ways that didn’t make him feel like a fucking house pet. Someone he’d imagined being with in this scenario countless times before. However, trying to push his mentality towards the boy he’d want it to be only made it worse. _That_ boy wouldn’t hurt him. _That_ boy wouldn’t force him to do anything that he didn’t want to do. The demon currently thrusting into his mouth was a far cry from what he had been hoping for for so long.  
  
Kyle’s lips and tongue were going numb, his jaw beginning to cramp. How the hell did they make it look so easy on camera? He groaned again, feeling Damien tense from the sound. He briefly considered keeping up the noise to get it over with sooner, but felt as though that would tell Damien he was enjoying this moment. He wasn’t nearly desperate enough to give him that idea.  
  
“Such a good doggie,” Damien laughed airily, staring down at the bobbing redhead with famished, glowing eyes. He couldn’t help but relish in his victory, knowing that Kyle had to have come down to his last straw to agree to do this. His little pup was learning oh-so-well. Kyle jerked confusedly as Damien’s rhythm became harder and a lot more sloppy. He whimpered as the cock shoved further into his throat, making him choke around the evading skin. It did nothing but heighten Damien’s pleasure. “You’re going to swallow your treat, do you understand?”  
  
Kyle shuddered, just allowing him to use his mouth, trying to use his fist still pumping to prevent Damien from choking him further. After what seemed to be hours of the thick skin attacking his aching jaw, Kyle tried to conceal his disgusted whine at the first splash of warm, salty solution on his tongue. His mouth soon became flooded, Damien still pushing into him like it was the most natural thing in the world. He groaned, his fingers tangled so deeply in Kyle’s curls the boy was almost positive he was going to have bald spots. The dick was suddenly ripped out of his mouth, a hand slapping overtop of his lips. “Swallow,” Damien commanded. Kyle did so, nearly vomiting at the taste and texture of the cum working its way down his throat, the idea wasn’t particularly appetizing either. “Good boy,” Damien praised, grinning widely and removing his hand from his mouth. Kyle’s scandalized face made him shudder with excitement, never knowing that an afterglow could be so much better than the event itself.  
  
He tucked himself back into his jeans and waved dismissively. “You’ve made Master _very_ happy. You may eat. Remember my rule.”  
  
He nodded silently, crawling over to his piles with a heavy, humiliated heart. He felt Damien’s eyes tracing over him, watching his every move with a scrutinizing, lusting gaze. He sighed, just thankful it was over. _Beyond_ thankful that it hadn’t gone any farther. He paused a moment, flushing once more before bending down towards the floor under Damien’s watchful stare, dragging his tongue through the water lying on stone.  
  



	10. Chapter 10

**Present Day - Week 10**  
  
As the four of them made their way downtown, three sets of eyes watching their struggling companion cautiously, it _almost_ seemed like things were back to normal. Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and Cartman once again out about town. Once again lined up alongside one another on the sidewalk heading out to do whatever the day called for them to do. However, the fact of the matter was that there was a definite black sheep hanging over their heads; Or rather, hobbling along, trying to keep a pace with the three of them.  
  
Kenny looked down at Kyle, whose teeth gritted in concentration and pain. “Ky?” he asked softly. “We can take a break, Dude. You look like you’re hurting a lot.” Kyle stubbornly shook his head, trying to make himself move along faster with his cane. Kenny and Stan shared a brief glance, the one that they’d been sharing for far too long. A look of helplessness, of the thirst to taste blood for Damien’s sins. It had become their default face anytime they were near the poor redhead.  
  
“Kahl, you’re gonna break your fuckin’ hip,” Cartman scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You need to sit your stubborn ass down.” Kyle looked at him for a moment and nodded compliantly, automatically dropping onto the sidewalk and staring up at him. The three of them sighed irritably.  
  
“Dammit, Cartman,” Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. “You phrased it like a fucking command.”  
  
“Well sorry!” he huffed. “Forgive me for not wanting to scrape his paralyzed ass off the pavement!”  
  
 Kenny shook his head, bending down and hefting under the lightweight, grimacing at the obvious ribs still protruding. He shuddered, leaning in and talking in Kyle’s ear softly as Stan and Cartman argued over them. “Come on, Ky,” he said. “Stand up again. You don’t have to listen to Cartman, okay?” Kyle looked at him like a lost puppy and he bit his lip. “I’m gonna help you, Kyle,” he promised him, stealing a glance at the two still bantering and planting a soft kiss on his temple. Kyle jerked a bit in shock, looking at him with wide eyes, the forest glittering under the fire. Kenny gave him a small, awkward smile, trying to read Kyle’s expression and failing miserably. “Sorry,” he muttered.  
  
Kyle shook his head slowly at him, his hand clasping gently around Kenny’s arm. The two of them stared at each other, the moment between them unbearably tense before Cartman’s voice broke back through.   
  
“Ay! You two gonna stand the fuck up or what?” They both blinked, Kenny catching Kyle’s recoil at the anger in Eric’s voice and frowning up at him, struggling to pull the redhead back onto his feet. He managed to set him back up with his cane and sighed, glaring at the brunette.  
  
“Dude, keep it _cool_ ,” he reminded him through gritted teeth. “No yelling around Kyle.”  
  
“Well you two were just sitting there like-” He stopped as Stan put his hand up in front of his face, seeing the noirette staring.  
  
“Kyle?” he asked, moving over and touching his shoulder softly. “You okay?” Kyle kept still, blinking as he stared across the street. They followed his gaze, finding themselves across from the synagogue. Stan’s eyes widened and he moved over beside him. “Ky? Do you remember going there?”  
  
Kyle remained silent, staring at the grand, white building and tonguing over his lips. He winced, starting to try to move across the street and whimpering as his legs began to throb. Kenny stepped up beside him as well, draping Kyle’s arm over his shoulder. “Stan, grab his cane,” he directed before looking at the redhead. “I’m gonna pick you up, Kyle. Are you okay with that?” Kyle looked at him, nodding softly and the blonde smiled reassuringly. “We’re gonna take you over there,” he promised, knowing full and well that Kyle would likely be hit by an impatient car if he went his usual pace. “Okay, one, two, three,” he counted before swinging down and grasping Kyle’s legs, hefting him up bridal style into his arms. He felt how disturbingly light his friend was and bit his lip, trying not to let the distress running through him show to the vulnerable kid.   
  
“I don’t wanna go to the Jew Club,” Cartman whined as they began walking across the street.  
  
“Then fucking leave,” Stan said quietly, trying to conceal his growing irritation. “Kyle actually recognizes something and we’re going to help him figure things out again.” Cartman just muttered under his breath about catching ‘Jew germs’ while Stan and Kenny watched the redhead. His eyes couldn’t be torn from the building, Kenny feeling his heart beating rapidly through his back. It was definitely a nice change of pace, only used to him reacting as such when terrified.  
  
They made their way to the opposite sidewalk and paused, watching Kyle staring in awe at the large building. He tapped Kenny’s shoulder a few times and the blonde very carefully helped lower him onto the ground, Stan gently grabbing his arm for the extra support. Kyle didn’t bother to look as he fumbled for his cane, letting Stan hand it off to him. He winced as his legs still pounded furiously, his curiosity far too heightened to make him stop for anything. He slowly stepped up to the side of the building, putting his hand cautiously against the stark bricks. He cocked his head, feeling a warmth hitting his palm. Kyle looked up at the Star of David proudly displayed in cobalt blue at the top of a crescent tower on the roof, the flicker of recognition growing stronger, throbbing through his aching brain. He silently went to try to work his way up the steps, letting Kenny and Stan rush over to his side and assist him. He hissed through his teeth, each step closer seeming to slam a wave of hesitation and nausea onto him. But it didn’t matter. He had to know what this was. It felt like a second home. Something in there was calling for him. He narrowed his eyes in the slightest. Something in here _betrayed_ him.  
  
They made it to the top step and Kyle worked his way out of Stan and Ken’s hold, wobbling his way to the large, decorated door. He placed his hand on it and jerked back a bit, feeling that warmth turn into a burst of fire. He narrowed his eyes. This didn’t make any sense. He straightened up all that he could, fighting through the heat and pressing the door open, stepping into the lighted sanctuary. He felt a tingle erupt in his body and convulsed a few times. Stan ran up beside him and looked at his face, his jaw dropping. “Holy shit,” he breathed out.  
  
“What?!” Ken asked in subdued panic.  
  
“The red around his eyes...” he tongued over his lips, narrowing his gaze. “It...it’s lighter...”  
  
“You sure it’s not just glare, Marsh?” Cartman asked, looking around the pristine orange and blue hall suspiciously.  
  
Ken stepped up beside him to confirm, and there it was: The bright ruby surrounding the green was nearly translucent. He smirked, “It’s a religious building. Damien can’t follow him in here,” he murmured.  
  
Kyle blinked at him rapidly. “D-Damien?” he whimpered, looking around nervously.  
  
Kenny smiled and shook his head, grasping Kyle’s hand. “Ky, do you remember anything?”  
  
The boy looked around a bit, still rather lost before his eyes locked on the front of the room. He pushed past his friends, very slowly making his way through the sanctuary. He stared up at the bimah, tilting his head curiously. He looked back at them and smiled sadly, pointing at it. “Here...” he blinked, smacking his lips and searching for his words. “Speech...me...you” he fumbled, gesturing to a bench and losing sight of his sentence completely.  
  
They all narrowed their eyes confusedly before Kenny’s shot back up in realization. “Oh! Your Bar Mitzvah? Do you remember that, Ky?” Kyle smiled shyly, nodding vigorously. He looked around the room a bit still, his glazed eyes catching the lights of the numerous chandeliers dangling above his head. He was in complete awe, an overwhelming feeling of relief, of compassion seeming to flood back into him. He couldn’t figure out why, but being in the room was an absolute euphoria for the lost boy. But a part of him was bothered as well. Something in here turned its back on him. He couldn’t figure out _what_.  
  
“Kyle Broflovski?” a shocked voice appeared. They all turned to see the rabbi blinking at him from the side ark with a smile. “You’re back out and about! Good for you!” Kyle tilted his head at the man, recognizing him as someone he could trust; Something he hadn’t felt about anyone but his friends and Ike in such a long time. Rabbi Schwartz made his way up to him slowly, putting his hand on his shoulder. “We’ve been praying for you, Kyle,” he told him kindly. “Your parents said you were back but you couldn’t come out very often. It’s good to see your face again.” Kyle just blinked at him, feeling a sincere warmth coming from his gesture. The man turned to see the three awkwardly standing in the aisle and smiled at them. “You’re all Kyle’s friends, I assume?”  
  
“Uh, yeah,” Stan waved a bit. “Ky saw this place and wanted to come here. It’s the first place he’s recognized since he got back,” he bit his lip a tad.  
  
Schwartz smiled affectionately at the redhead. “You remember coming here, Kyle? You were very adamant about coming here for advice, you know.” Kyle shrugged confusedly, wondering what kind of advice this place would give him. But he knew it was something that must have been wonderful. The rabbi led him over to a bench at the front of the hall, gesturing for the others to come join them. Kenny and Stan shot Cartman a warning look before making their way over towards the two of them. They all sat down, Kenny, Stan, and Cartman looking around the giant room in interest while Kyle’s eyes remained locked on the kind man, a sudden snap erupting through his vulnerable system.  
  
“You...helped...me...” Kyle managed to work out shakily, not even sure where it came from himself. His friends shot their heads over, Ken and Stan’s lips curling up in glee.  
  
Kenny bit his lip excitedly, “Holy shit he remembers someone!”  
  
Stan smacked him, “Religious place, Ken,” he reminded him.  
  
“Not ours,” Cartman raised his brow, getting slapped by Stan as well.   
  
Kyle ignored them along with the sympathetic man. The rabbi was _more_ than aware that Kyle had been struggling since he’d returned. Sheila and Gerald had kept him informed on his memory loss, his frustration with trying to speak, how he couldn’t seem to gain any weight, how the boy was a mere shell of his former self. However, he could see some light sparking back into Kyle’s green eyes, a frail hand coming and gripping his own; A weak, desperate shake about it.  Something was breaking within Kyle. A wave of his old confidence, his determination trying to peak through towards the light of his shattered subconscious out towards the familiar face. “Help me...please...” he begged, staring at the benevolent man, his eyes beading with tears.  
  
“What do you need help with?” he asked patiently. “I’m here for you.”  
  
Kyle tongued over his lips, taking his free hand and pressing it against his chest, feeling his own heart beating so fiercely. “Devil...my master,” he worked out. “Help me.”  
  
The rabbi looked at him with widened eyes, looking up at Kyle’s friends who stared back helplessly. “Satan’s son kidnapped him,” Kenny explained quietly.  
  
The man returned his bewildered stare to the redhead, sitting there looking so innocent with tears lining his glittering eyes. He was pleading for the man to have the words he needed. Something about the room, something about the man...it pushed his fears down. He didn’t even _consider_ the possibility of Damien coming after him and punishing him. Something inside of him was just pressing him forward, begging for the answers. Begging for his freedom.  
  
The rabbi sighed deeply, clasping Kyle’s hand within his own. “Kyle, do you know what Satan is to us Jews?” Kyle blinked, shaking his head. “He’s not a person,” he said softly. “Sure, the fallen angel and all that exists, but not Satan. Satan is merely an idea.”  
  
“He...” Kyle cocked his head confusedly. “But...m-my master...”  
  
“No one is your master but you and HaShem,” he said softly.  
  
Cartman leaned over to Stan, cocking his brow at the man. “Who the fuck is HaShem?”  
  
“God, you dumbfuck,” he muttered back, staring at Kyle’s confused face and praying for a miracle, ignoring Cartman’s quiet rambles regarding Jews ‘even fucking up God’s name’.  
  
“Satan,” the man continued, “Is nothing more than an obstacle in your life. This person who stole you, he is no god of any kind,” he assured him. “Even if he came from what the Christians call Hell, he is _not_ your master. He has no power over you, Kyle.”  
  
Kyle stared down at their hands clasped together, his mind whirring in every direction. He looked back up into the gracious brown eyes and took a deep breath. “I...” he faltered from the gaze and sniffled, dropping his head in shame. “Not strong,” he whispered, shaking his head. “ _His_.”  
  
“No,” the man said firmly, startling the boy a tad. “He is merely a roadblock in your path, Kyle. He’s nothing more than a cruel man. You have power over him, Kyle.” The redhead blinked, shaking his head a bit. The kind man didn’t _understand_. Schwartz gave him a smile and continued, “If this person wants to hold such reins over you...don’t you think that means that you hold sway with him? Don’t you think that means that he’s vulnerable to _you_?”  
  
“H-how?” Kyle gaped at him.  
  
He patted his hand, “He may be winning the battle, Kyle, but the war is for you. And no one can ever win you but yourself and HaShem, regardless of who your opponent may be.” Kyle felt tears falling down his face, the rabbi gently wiping them away, feeling his heart breaking. He’d watched this boy grow up. He’d helped him through some rather difficult periods in his life, dealing with losing grips on his faith, his sexuality, his overbearing mother. Everything that conflicted Kyle in a large way, he’d always come here to seek guidance. This was nothing he’d been prepared for, however. This was completely new territory, but he wasn’t about to lose a cherised member of his synagogue to something so vile. Not without helping all he could.  
  
Kyle sniveled, clasping at his chest again. “My soul...” he breathed out in terror. “H-his soul...in mine...I-I can’t...”  
  
“Can’t what?” he asked softly.  
  
“ _Die_ ,” he finished, sobbing out hysterically. All four of them jerked back in shock at the announcement, at his complete loss of control.  
  
“You can’t die?” Kenny whispered, his heart sinking so deep into his stomach that he didn’t know _what_ to do. He knew exactly how the poor boy felt, but there was nothing he could find within him to comfort him. He knew well enough. What Kyle was going through was a fate much, much worse than death. The reprieve was an impossible dream far outstretching either of their reaches.  
  
Kyle shook his head, looking over at him defeatedly. “Can’t...escape...” he coughed out, wiping his eyes with his sweatshirt sleeve. “ _Trapped_ ,” he whispered in fright.  
  
“No,” the man said again, recollecting himself from the sudden revelation and clasping onto Kyle tighter, waiting for the broken boy to look at him again. “You are too strong to be trapped, Kyle,” he insisted. “If you can’t die, then you’ve already won,” he said, feeling a large string of oddness in the phrase but pushing through. “You know how you’re going to win this war for you, Kyle?” he asked, watching Kyle’s head shake subtly, his full attention on the rabbi. “You get better, Kyle. You find yourself again. You _live_ and you show him that he can never own you, regardless of who’s soul is inside of you. You will _always_ be Kyle Broflovski, nothing less. Do you understand?”  
  
The words triggered something inside of the redhead, feeling himself filled with an adrenaline that he hadn’t had in so long. He took a long, shuddery breath, letting the moment wrap around him like a wool blanket, holding him securely. He stared into the man’s brown eyes, the determination of his words echoing down into Kyle’s psyche. The faded red around his irises gleamed in the soft lighting of the sanctuary, that flash of irate conviction pulsing through them once again. He slowly leaned forward, clasping the man in a thankful hug. The rabbi chuckled, holding him back, feeling a tenseness in Kyle’s stance that he’d recognize anywhere. It happened whenever his faith had been reaffirmed. It happened when he was assured that he wouldn’t be ostracized for his feelings on other boys. It was that same embrace he used every time the two of them had a long discussion and Schwartz managed to calm down the boy’s fiery temper and overwhelming heart. It spoke volumes, telling the man that Kyle was filled with renewed confidence, his body building with strength he didn’t have before, and he was ready to step out to take on the world.  
  


* * *

  
  
**Day 365**  
  
“NO!” he screamed out, the echo of his voice seeming to pulse down on him, holding him down against the ground with Damien’s hand. He whined, trying to struggle out of the grip on the back of his neck, fighting the chains binding his wrists in the small of his back. He had to get out. He had to fucking _run_.  
  
“You knew this was inevitable, Pup,” Damien grinned, staring down ravenously at the array of fresh cuts and beginning bruises lining the boy’s back and face. The pure terror of Kyle was all around them, and he breathed it in like fresh pine. It was a delicious, tangy scent, his body rearing to experience his fill.  
  
Kyle hiccuped out broken sobs, still trying to thrash out of the grip. This couldn’t happen. Damien _had_ to be bluffing. “Please don’t,” he pleaded. “Jesus Christ, I didn’t do anything to you!” he screeched as Damien’s claws dug deeper into his neck.  
  
The demon purred, taking his free hand and rubbing Kyle’s ass, raised high in the air just for him. He smacked the skin lightly and watched the boy quiver in fear with a gentle yelp. “You made me want you, little one,” he replied. “You’ve been sitting here so _patiently_ waiting for me to take you.”  
  
Kyle sobbed again, shaking his head against the stone. “Please. Please don’t. I-I’ll...I’ll fucking suck your dick all you fucking want if you don’t do this to me!” He was far past the point of humiliation over the notion. He needed to barter. He had to find his way out of this, and fighting physically sure as hell wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He’d learned that well enough. Damien let out a low chuckle, mumbling a series of words that Kyle couldn’t even begin to understand as he continued trying to thrash around. The redhead felt a finger teasing over his entrance and his breath caught in his throat. “No...” he whimpered, letting out an ear-shattering scream as Damien suddenly pushed in three lubed fingers, Kyle no where _near_ prepared for such an onslaught.  
  
“Don’t you know, little bulldog?” Damien questioned calmly, watching Kyle’s face contort cutely at the invasion. “You’re going to suck my dick all I want _regardless_.” Kyle mumbled incoherent swears, trying to break away from the all-too-eager fingers. Damien was completely entranced, watching his digits disappearing inside of the boy. He wasn’t a fool, he knew that a part of him had been seated in the redhead for the past year, but this was different. This was something that he could feel, he could watch. He could brand the boy in ways that a simple soul transfer could not.  
  
Kyle was beginning to hyperventilate, his vision edging black. There had to be a way out of this. He was Kyle fucking Broflovski, he could talk his way out of _anything_. He bit his lip, groaning at what he knew was the only way to make Damien at least _pause_. “Master!” he screamed, getting that halt in movement he was hoping for, not entirely happy that his fingers were still seated deep inside him, but pressing through. “P-please. Please.” he looked back to see Damien staring at him hungrily and shuddered. “Please don’t do this to me,” he begged. “Master, I’ll do whatever the fuck you want, just not this,” he sniffled pathetically. His embarrassment shifted back into an overwhelming horror as Damien grew a large, malicious grin, his fangs gleaming menacingly in Kyle’s tear-stained eyes.  
  
“I do love it when you beg, my pet,” he cooed. “However,” he suddenly ripped his fingers out of Kyle, watching him convulse lightly from the abrupt loss with interest. “ _This_ is what I want you to do,” he said, grabbing Kyle’s hips and moving behind him, grabbing his already free-standing cock, still slick with Kyle’s saliva in his hand and shuddering. He ignored Kyle’s vehement protests, more interested in watching the heaving of the boy’s marred back. He rubbed the head of his cock along Kyle’s opening, unable to contain his impatience to feel the heat clenching around him. But he wanted to savor this moment. His first complete taking of his prey, the first time when Kyle was going to feel just how _much_ power he had over him; Over his mind _and_ body alike.   
  
He began pressing his head slowly into the boy, Kyle screaming bloody murder at the action. He was going to rip in half, he decided, shutting his eyes and trying to stop his panicked breathing. He was going to rip and bleed to death, or as close to it as he could get. The searing heat of Damien’s slowly stabbing cock was beyond foreign for his body to accommodate to. His ass was being stretched further than he knew it could be, taking in such an extreme amount of pain that he didn’t know what to do but nestle his face against the stone and pray for God to do him a kindness and somehow take his life _now_.   
  
Damien found himself fully seated inside the redhead, taking a large breath, feeling muscles contracting around him in agony. Kyle’s shoulders heaved with pained sobs, tears running off his bruised face down onto the rock beneath him. The tightness surrounding him was enough to make any half-minded man sing with pleasure, and the demon was no exception. He tongued over his lips, knowing he wasn’t going to last long this time around, wanting to draw it out as long as he possibly could. He began subtly rotating his hips, watching Kyle’s hole stretch around him. He grinned, seeing how painful it looked, knowing he was causing his pet much more than just a sore ass at this point.  
  
Kyle screamed airily, completely frozen by the incursion. A part of him was begging for the poison again, knowing that it was more painful, but so much more tolerable than this. This was a _complete_ loss on his part. He couldn’t even begin to think of insults or banter to stall the demon. He didn’t have the excuse that it was all the venom’s fault he couldn’t fight his way out. All he could think about was the scorching pain shoved into his ass, the burn running up the length of his angled spine. ‘ _Somebody...please...fucking save me!_ ’ he prayed, letting out a choked cry as Damien gave a small push deeper inside of him.  
  
Damien halted his movement, staring still at his masterpiece and chuckling. “Little pup, there is one way to make this end quicker:” he said lowly. “ _Beg_ for me to go faster and end your suffering, and I’ll comply.”  
  
Kyle was nearly suffocated by the choice. He gritted his teeth, shaking his head. He couldn’t do that. Damien could threaten to dismember him at this point and he still wouldn’t beg. Not for this. _Never_ for this.  
  
Damien shrugged, “Very well,” he said, keeping his hold on Kyle and thrusting into him with deep, purposeful jaunts. He shuddered at Kyle’s body pulling him in unwillingly, stretching around his thick cock so compliantly; Such a stark difference from his pet’s adamantly opposed mind. He loved it, the boy so full of contradictions held under his thumb, pushed down into the ground by his cock. He grunted, digging his claws deep into Kyle’s hip, pushing inside of him as deep as he could reach, receiving such wonderful cries from that beautiful face that he couldn’t help but shudder. It was everything he’d wanted and more. That defiance was still eating away at the redhead, still making him completely unwilling to submit. But Damien knew better. He had the boy nearing his mind’s edge. He just needed to push him down. He hissed, pushing into him particularly hard and watching as the slender body beneath him arched in discomfort.  
  
“Stop! Please just stop!” Kyle cried, his face beaming red, his wrists raw and uncomfortable in their confined position. Damien just laughed, reaching further up his neck and grabbing a handful of curls, shoving his face closer into the ground.  
  
“Beg for it, my pet,” he ordered.  
  
“Never!” he spat insubordinately. “You piece of shit! I fucking hate you! I’ll fucking kill you I swear to God!”  
  
Damien had never felt such a conflict of emotion before. Pure, unadulterated _rage_ for his spiteful little tongue, an overwhelming surge of raw lust for the challenge still being presented to him. He grinned deviously, pressing down on Kyle’s head and jerking his hips inside of him with fast, deep spears. “Tight, _tight_ little doggie,” he whispered, tonguing over his lips. “Been so very bad, hasn’t he?”  
  
“Fuck you!” he yelled, his body starting to unwillingly fall in time with Damien’s motions, each rock backwards impaling him further onto what he so hated. He coughed as he tried to regain control of his breathing, finding himself unable to in the mess of the assault. Every nerve was too sensitive for him to handle. He could feel every ridge, every vein of Damien’s cock as it shoved inside of him quicker. Damien’s claws had dug deep enough into his hips he could feel the blood rushing down his legs and pooling at his knees. Every bit of him could be felt, and he hated it. He wanted to be numb. He wanted to just collapse and never feel or think again. But with each sear inside of his body, he knew that just wasn’t a viable option.  
  
Damien breath was shallow, his eyes half-lidded euphorically as he stared down on his victim, each press of his hips bringing him closer towards his goal: Marking Kyle from the _inside_. The mere thought made him shudder with anticipation, his cock slamming down into Kyle seamlessly. His balls clashed against Kyle’s perineum with heavy, wet smacks that echoed around the two of them. The sound made Damien on the tail end of positively giddy, Kyle closer towards losing the few contents of his stomach. Claws dug into his back, ripping down the fragile skin and making him shriek. He couldn’t handle this. He just couldn’t!  
  
“How’s this, Pup?” Damien breathed out, eyes gleaming in thirst, in his moment of utter victory over his captive. “Do you like when Master’s _deep_ inside of you, my pet?”  
  
Kyle sobbed, shaking his head around like a madman. “YOU BASTARD!” he howled. “You fucking monster! I swear to Christ I’ll kill you!”  
  
Damien chuckled, feeling himself hanging on his edge and giving a shaky breath. “I’d like to see you try, little one,” he murmured truthfully, quickly losing his control over his body at the idea. He growled predatorily, pressing down firmly enough on Kyle’s head to make him sure his skull was going to splinter. Kyle cried out in disgust as Damien moaned, losing himself in spurts deep inside Kyle’s ass. He wouldn’t stop thrusting, trying to remind Kyle of just what’d been done to him, not letting him stop to think that his torment was over just yet. A good few thrusts later, his cock became far too sensitized in the clutches of Kyle’s muscles and he begrudgingly pulled out in a slow, agonizing movement. He watched with interest as his cum began dripping down Kyle’s inner thighs, mixing beautifully with his blood around his knees.   
  
With the grip on his hair and hip being released, Kyle collapsed onto his side, curling his legs up into himself protectively. The tears wouldn’t _stop_. He looked up through his waterlogged vision, seeing Damien kneeling next to him looking way too proud of himself. The hand he so despised ran through his curls, stroking his pounding skull. “Good boy,” he breathed out softly. “Such a _beautifully_ good boy.”  
  
“You...y-you sick fuck...” he hiccuped out, hiding his face once again and wailing into the stone. “I hate you so fucking much,” he whispered, trying to curl into himself and disappear into an alternate dimension.  
  
Damien chuckled, ripping his head up to stare at him. He was momentarily stopped, captivated by Kyle’s distraught face; glistening with tears and spittle from his screams, his cheeks practically glowing in the dim lighting of the room. His eyes, _god his eyes_ , still filled with that anger, that determination, that _hate_. It filled Damien with gusto, with a carnivorous appetite to devour the boy whole. “Thank me,” he said bluntly.  
  
Kyle blinked in shock at the request before the fury returned to his delicate features. “ _Never_.” he snarled. “You disgusting rapist piece of shit! I’m not thanking you for _anything_!” He stopped, panting heavily and looking away from the demon, too overrun with rage and shame to continue. “Just fucking chain me up and leave,” he muttered.  
  
Damien quirked his brow, “Oh? You think that _you_ get to decide when I come and go, huh?”  
  
Kyle cringed at his word choice, feeling him still leaking out of his sore ass. “Just _leave_ ,” he bristled. “Haven’t you done enough to me for one fucking day?!” he shot, looking back up and locking stares with his captor. A single spark in Damien’s eye told him the story. No. No he wasn’t done.   
  
He yelped as Damien pushed him back a bit and slammed his head down into the stone into the mix of blood and cum. He groaned, trying to get his face out of the disgusting mess. “Doggie made a mess,” Damien said cooly. “And he’s going to lick it up or find himself on Master’s cock again in a few moments.”  
  
Kyle froze, looking between him and down to the puddle underneath him. “Jesus Christ,” he whimpered. “Just...just _please_ let me-”  
  
“Lick it up now, Pup,” he ordered. He leaned down, grazing the shell of Kyle’s ear with hot breath. “Your defiance is just making me harder, so I suggest you get to it unless you enjoy feeling me inside you so much.”  
  
Kyle growled lightly, more tears springing from his eyes. He shuddered, darting his tongue out and swiping it through the mess, wanting to vomit automatically at the coppered, salty disaster of taste. He swallowed it down and kept going, desperate to just get Damien away from him at this point. He ignored Damien’s constant praises, focusing on the revolting task at hand instead. He yelped as Damien ripped him back onto the sides of his legs, feeling some of the mixture trailing down his cheek and staring at the demon blankly. He could taste the disgusting, heavy tang of his blood and couldn’t help but sink lowly. He was right before. His blood tasted the same as Damien’s, that sour mold he’d experienced so long ago. The thought terrified him. Was he becoming a monster like Damien? He bit his lip in worry before being shaken, looking into Damien’s garnet eyes spitefully.  
  
“You’ve been a very _naughty_ puppy today,” Damien drawled. “But I’ll be merciful, just because I was so enjoying using your body,” he grinned mockingly, watching Kyle shiver with anger. “One more chance. Thank your master for using you.”  
  
Kyle stared at him, knowing that refusal would not be a pretty thing. But he’d lost so much already today. He wanted the streak to end. He gathered up spit, blood, and cum lingering in his mouth, spewing it out into Damien’s face. “Fuck. You.” he breathed angrily. Damien looked at him with an unreadable expression, calmly wiping the saliva off and smearing it on Kyle’s lips, dragging his thumb down on them and grinning at him malevolently.   
  
“Very well.” he said simply before Kyle felt his collar being pulled up, choking as it kept raising him as far as he could reach on his knees. He looked up, seeing a long chain descending from the ceiling down, pulling at the leather and keeping him taut. He gulped, looking at Damien with worried eyes. “Should you have thanked me, you wouldn’t be punished,” he shrugged innocently. “But now, you can spend the next month kneeling there like you are now thinking about how thankful you would be just to have the pleasure of my cock compared to this,” he grinned.  
  
“You fuck!” he screeched, angered tears nestled in the corners of his eyes.  
  
“No, Pup,” he said firmly, grasping his chin and glaring at him. “That’s what _you_ are. Nothing but a pretty little fuck for me to enjoy.” Kyle was rendered speechless, his resentment spiking to critical levels. Damien smirked, kissing him briskly and turning away from him. He walked out of the prison, feeling his pets stunned stare as he closed the door behind him. He waited a good ten minutes before smiling deviously at the clear sound behind the iron of Kyle once again beginning to cry.


	11. Chapter 11

**Present Day - Week 12**  
  
Through the window, he could see the wind billowing softly through a branch, scratching against the pane frantically like a desperate animal. He was captivated by how the sounds wouldn’t echo through his spell. How nothing but himself and the boy thrusting into him could break through his incantation. He was more than used to things not being what one would call ‘normal’ for himself, but even then, the idea of being completely blocked from reality was fascinating.  
  
He grunted as teeth scraped over his shoulder blade, curling his fists into the sheet underneath him as he moved to his chosen victim’s rhythm. He had no idea who this guy was. Name was apparently Jack, he’d seen him earlier while out with Stan, working at Harbucks and looking positively done with life. Kyle couldn’t help but take an interest, his rich mahogany hair and glazed hazel eyes caught his attention right quick. He was enthralled with the piercings lining his lip, nose, and ears. He shimmered in the sunlight, nearly blinding Kyle as they’d passed him passing out samples and he’d managed to catch a glimpse of his name tag.   
  
He winced as the lip ring scraped along his skin, his mind curiously wondering as to how easy it was for the boy to eat with it in. He shook those thoughts away, clenching his fists tighter and moving back against Jack’s propulsions. He looked back, seeing the slender, handsome face still biting into him, a satisfied curl of the lips. Curious, foreign hands crept along his underside, scraping down his ribcage. He whimpered as a hand brushed over his throbbing cock, genially wrapping around it before letting go just as slowly. “Nah,” the deep voice whispered against him. “If this is my dream, I don’t need to worry about you.”  
  
Kyle rolled his eyes a bit, something that nearly made him fall over. He blinked. He hadn’t done that in _so_ long. It used to be his reflex, but now, it seemed to take effort. He stared ahead at the plain oaken headboard, still being rocked along and just accepting the abuse his body was enduring. What was happening? It was a lot weighing through the still clouded regions of his brain. Something was in there. _Something_ was trying to get out. What the hell was it? It didn’t matter at this point, however. Enough prodding had shown that this guy wanted nothing more than a fuck toy, and that’s what he needed to be. He was certainly more than used to it.  
  
He yelped as Jack hit into him particularly hard, rubbing against that sensitive node and sending enraptured shock waves rippling through his system. “Fuck...” he whined. “There, there!” he pleaded, more than grateful for any pleasure in this business. A husky chuckle broke through the air, a nod brushed against him as the boy picked up his pace. His hands wrapped around Kyle’s slender hips, letting his body weight do the work of impaling him deeper onto his cock. The redhead whimpered, shaking his ass and trying to get more of that heavenly feeling to take hold of him.  
  
He felt a smidgeon of disappointment as Jack began losing his rhythm and he nearly sighed. He managed to turn his head, watching the sweat pouring down the boy’s face with interest. He noticed a bead of the liquid run down his nose, curling around the edge of a silver stud. They glinted together in the moonlight, catching Kyle’s complete attention before he remembered his duties and inwardly prepared himself. He bit his lip, trying to push back harder against him to finish the job.   
  
Jack panted, fingernails digging into Kyle’s glowing skin and tonguing at his lip ring. “Fuck...” he breathed. “I’m...I’m gonna...”  
  
“Do it,” Kyle hissed, reaching back and grabbing Jack’s shoulder, repeating his ritualistic mantra once again. Jack pulled out and fisted himself, exploding on Kyle’s ass, trailing down the back of his milky thighs. Kyle watched his eyes carefully, relieved when the telltale glow began. He shuddered at the pure fright beaming through before the boy collapsed onto the bed. Kyle stared at him for a bit, sighing tiredly and making his way up onto his feet. He grimaced down at his still hardened cock and the feeling of cum dripping down his ass and legs. It didn’t matter though, he’d done what he needed to do.  
  
He winced as his left arm throbbed and he brought it up to examine it in the pale lighting. His eyes widened as he noticed the veins were so much longer now, stretching to past the middle of his forearm. He blinked confusedly. What even _was_ this thing? Damien had called it his ‘progress’. All he knew was it got longer with every person he slept with, but he hadn’t the slightest clue as to what he was progressing _towards_.   
  
He bit his lip and sighed again, running his hand through his frazzled hair. He opened his mouth to call for his creatures again before a strong arm wrapped around his waist. He nearly screamed before a familiar clawed hand slapped over his mouth and he sighed in relief. He looked back to see Damien holding him with a sly grin. “What a good boy,” he cooed, taking his hand off his lips and reaching down, grabbing Kyle’s erect dick with a warm, slick hand. Kyle’s breath caught in his throat, his head leaning back against Damien’s broad shoulder. The hand masterfully stroked along, Damien licking up the back of his neck with his forked tongue, whispering warm, lathered words of praise into his ear. Kyle shuddered, squirming against Damien as pleasure racked through him. “What is it you want, my pet?” Damien asked in a growl.  
  
“I-I wanna cum, Master, please,” he whined, shaking against the skilled movements.  
  
Damien chuckled and nodded against him, “And I shall let you, with as good of a boy as you’ve been. And good boys what?” he asked expectantly.  
  
“Always get their rewards,” Kyle whispered, too focused on his impending gratification to make himself speak much louder. He bit his lip and panted, his orgasm cutting towards him like a razor sharp pendulum. His hand reached up, curling around Damien’s shoulder and clinging onto him tightly, his body a doll in the demon’s hold. Prey to his whim, complete overtaken with the lust still lingering from his spell. “Oh god...” he whimpered, gulping before letting his mouth hang open with heavy, passionate breaths.  
  
“Come on, little phoenix,” Damien encouraged, nipping at his ear gently. “I’m giving you permission.”  
  
Somehow, that did it for Kyle. His eyes clenched shut, his teeth grinding against each other as a sharp hiss whizzed past them. His hips shot forward, his body releasing everything in a short, wonderful moment of complete satisfaction. These times were few and far in-between, Kyle had learned quickly enough to enjoy them while they lasted.  The tingles throughout his body made him numbed, not used to such bliss anymore. He slumped back against Damien exhaustedly, smacking his lips and looking up at Damien’s amused, cocky grin. “T-thank you, Master,” he whispered, wanting so dearly to shut his eyes and embrace his moment but knowing to do so could be catastrophic.   
  
Damien chuckled, “Let’s take you home, little one,” he said, cupping Kyle’s chin and pulling him up steadily. Kyle turned, clinging onto the demon as his eyes began to glow. Damien felt Kyle’s fingers clutching onto him and couldn’t hold back his smug grin as they descended through a bright white void down in the floor. Damien always loved to travel as such, the warmth of the emptiness a stark difference from the humidity of home. It was calming, even for himself. He imagined that it was the same for Kyle to, especially considering how he seemed to go slack in Damien’s hold every trip through it. He chuckled again, kissing the boy’s hair before they emerged to the other side, their feet softly landing on Kyle’s bedroom carpet. Damien let go of Kyle and the boy hesitantly did the same. He was always fairly wobbly after traveling through whatever Damien managed to conjure up. He felt Damien leading him to his bed and he sat down, wincing at the still-dripping cum stuck to his legs. He looked up to see Damien beaming at him and bit his lip a bit.  
  
“Master? May I ask a question?” he said timidly, half-expecting Damien to hit him for speaking without being spoken to.  
  
Damien nodded placidly, leaning back against Kyle’s desk across the room. He gestured towards him, “Go right ahead.”  
  
He hesitated for a moment before looking at his blackened markings and gulping. “Master I...I don’t remember...what happened with Craig,” he said tiredly. “I-I remember going there and...and feeling...” he looked up for the word, unable to find it.  
 “You were filled with nothing but lust,” Damien said matter-of-factly. Kyle looked back and nodded. The demon sighed, wondering how it was that Kyle even remembered his emotions to begin with but pressing through. “Tucker’s desires were more violent than what your spell is made for,” he explained. “When you take on someone else’s wishes, your body battles for whatever side of you is going to win.”  
  
“Side?” he narrowed his eyes.  
  
He chuckled, “The side of you that harbors me, and the side that still wants you to be Kyle, my stubborn little pup.” Kyle gulped, shying down a tad and looking at him nervously. Damien waved away his worries. He certainly wasn’t angry that Kyle’s soul still lived in him. There was a reason he took _him_ after all. He continued, “Your soul tries to balance itself alongside my own. However, my soul is much _much_ stronger,” he grinned maliciously. Kyle merely stared, his brain trying desperately to wrap around whatever facts Damien was spewing at him. “Tucker’s desires were much stronger than what your soul is used to by anyone other than me,” he stated. “It threw the balance completely off, because the Kyle part of you got scared and wanted to run off, but my soul was demanding you stay there and complete what you set off to do.”  
  
Kyle ducked down, brushing his bangs out of his eyes, “I’m sorry, Master,” he whispered.  
  
He shrugged, “You did it regardless. Your task was complete and that’s all that matters. I got my benefits and you made it out without completely destroying your soul. We all win.”  
  
Kyle sat in silence, stunned. Destroying his soul? Damien got _benefits_? What the fuck was he going on about?  
  
Damien watched him carefully, easily prodding through the murky muddle of Kyle’s mind. He could tell his wheels were slowly turning. He knew that look. He knew the look of Kyle trying to work out how to fix his problems. He hadn’t seen it in nearly a year, but it had excited him so much that it was impossible to forget. However, finding it reappearing as such was not something that Damien had been prepared for. That should have been wiped out of him by now. It was vague, but it was still _there_. He ‘hmmed’ a bit and cleared his throat, shifting against Kyle’s desk. “What’s on your mind, my pet?” he asked, narrowing his eyes a bit to let Kyle know to tread carefully.  
  
Kyle gulped at the tone of his expression. “I-I...I was just...just wondering...” he trailed off in a cracking whimper at the end before making himself push through less Damien lose his patience. “W-what kind of benefits you get...b-but I know you said...I’d have to wait...so...so I will, Master,” he winced, hoping beyond hope he’d said the right thing.  
  
 Damien smirked and shook his head, “You _are_ still in there, little bulldog,” he said gently. “Still asking so many questions, demanding to know my motives.”  
  
“I’m not d-demanding, Master!” he insisted with a squeak, recoiling on the bed. He got a genuine laugh out of Damien and that terrified him more than the accusation itself. Damien looked at him, sitting on the bed curled up, looking oh-so-vulnerable. He knew he was still winning. Some of the old Kyle was trying to peak through, but he still held the deck. Kyle was going to have to play with whatever cards he felt were appropriate to give him. He stood up off the desk and walked towards the cowering boy, slowly placing a hand into his hair. Kyle relaxed almost immediately as he began petting through it, knowing that the movement meant he’d done no wrong. Damien was pleased, and it calmed his nerves immensely.  
  
Kyle gasped suddenly, his body jerking and falling onto the mattress. Damien watched calmly as he convulsed a few times, arching towards the ceiling. His golden glow began to evaporate, his healthy skin beginning to sink back to its pale normalcy. The demon watched curiously as his scars began breaking back up through the skin, his stomach shrinking and his ribs pushing back against the ivory flesh. The tattoo on his chest pressed back up and Damien couldn’t help but smile. His. Kyle was still _his_.  
  
The redhead finally stopped quivering, falling limp on his bed with a cough. He hated this. He hated feeling so healthy and having it stripped from him in an instant. He just wanted to be able to run again. He wanted to walk down the streets without Kenny and Stan holding back tears trying to help him. He wanted so much that he knew he wasn’t going to get. He sniffled, looking confusedly as Damien grabbed his pajama pants from the edge of the bed and slowly worked them up his throbbing legs around his hips. The demon picked him up a bit, moving him under his covers. Kyle was completely dumbfounded. This was kindness. Pure _kindness_. It was so beyond what he’d grown to expect, it was baffling.  
  
Damien could practically smell the confusion leaking off of the boy and smirked down at him. “You’ve been a very good boy,” he gave as explanation. “I’m _very_ proud of you.” Kyle blushed, staring up at him with those wide green and red eyes that made the demon shudder.  
  
“Thank you, Master,” he whispered, looking around Damien’s face for some inkling of a trap. When he didn’t find one, he was caught in the turmoil between relaxation and more bewilderment.  
  
Damien snorted, patting his head. “You have permission to eat for the next four days without my being there to say so, understand?” Kyle nodded, thankful for that. He hadn’t eaten in nearly two weeks with Cartman’s new rule for him everyone started following. “You may sleep,” he said, noticing Kyle’s drooping eyes. “Remember who you belong to.”  
  
A moment passed before the softest whisper came through, “ _You_.” Kyle almost instantly fell asleep, exhausted from the spell seeping out of him. Damien watched him for a good while, his curiosity growing. Kyle was gaining back his senses. Not nearly to the level they used to be, but they were making creeping appearances. He frowned, pushing the boys bangs back and staring at the innocently slumbering face. Kyle was _his_ , regardless of what old habits were trying to break through. He would remind Kyle that he was the only one looking out for him; That he was the only person he could count on to help him. He narrowed his eyes. It’d been easy enough in the past when Kyle was a lot stronger, and it’d certainly be no strenuous task now.  
  


* * *

  
  
**Day 397**  
  
He grimaced as the damning blindfold and gag appeared out of nowhere back around his head. He sighed, hearing the door opening and knowing what was coming next. Some of Damien’s fucking little minions coming in to clean him. It’d been routine since he was brought into this damnable room, once every now and then getting fucking cleaned like a prized steer. He’d figured out long before that Damien didn’t want him to see or talk to anyone but himself, wanted to make damn sure he knew that Damien was his only prayer of a companion. Kyle would much rather prefer to just rot in total isolation compared to that.  
  
He grunted as cold rags began scrubbing through his hair and around his aching body. His knees were killing him from kneeling so long, he knew that his collar had left a nice little raw band around his throat from being so taut. His arms shifted uncomfortably, still tethered behind him as the rags continued their work. He yelped in shock as one dipped in around his ass, his face blushing underneath his bindings. He could make out the group talking in some language he had no idea how to decipher. It sounded enough like Latin, but some old variation that probably no one used except for Satan’s little cohorts. He groaned as one of them tipped his head back to clean around his collar, wishing they’d just snap the damn thing off for him.  
  
His nose scrunched, the smell of whatever they were cleaning him with driving him insane as it usually did. It smelled like a horrid mix of blood and brimstone. It was heavy and metallic, smokey and raw. He hated it. He hated _everything_. He braced himself as all the rags pulled off of him at once, ready as a torrent of frigid water came sloshing down atop his head. He shuddered and coughed, his body jolting painfully at the temperature change and nearly choking him. He shook his head a bit, trying to fling droplets out of his now plastered-down hair. He knew better than to try to drink some of the water. Damien had them lace it with something that tasted absolutely vile and made him pass out.  
  
Bastard always thought of everything.  
  
He heard the minions walking out and sighed tiredly, shivering still. Fuck he was tired. Tired and hungry and thirsty and just _beyond_ sick of always feeling like that. Something needed to happen to save him and it needed to happen _now_. He sniffled a bit before shaking it off. He’d done enough crying lately. He needed to find himself again. Kyle Broflovski didn’t fucking cry. He got angry. He got his vengeance through careful, methodical planning. He didn’t just lie back and accept it. This couldn’t be an exception.  
  
He looked up as the door opened once again, automatically recognizing Damien’s purposeful footsteps and growling. “Let me out!” he rasped under his gag, falling into a desperate coughing spell. He rolled his eyes at himself. He knew better than to do that by now. Damien waited until the fit settled before tearing off his gag and blindfold. Kyle winced and looked up at his beaming face.  
  
“And how are we?” he asked.  
  
“Pissed,” he grumbled.   
  
“Oh?” he chuckled. “Well I’m about to make that even worse,” he grinned darkly.  
  
Kyle’s furious reserve buckled at the tone and his jaw trembled. “D-don’t you dare,” he coughed out. “I-I won’t let you!”  
  
Damien quirked an amused brow. “Well for one thing, you can’t stop me, little Kyle. Your body is mine to do with as I please.” He grinned at Kyle fighting weakly against his chains to attack him. “For another, that wasn’t what I was referring to.” He watched Kyle pause and stare at him confusedly. He placed a claw under his chin, tilting his captive head up a bit. “I want to share with you news of Earth,” he purred.  
  
“W-what?” Kyle whispered, his mind flashing through all the horrible possibilities. Was his family okay? Stan and Kenny? Did someone kill themselves to get to him?! His imagination began spiraling out of control, completely unhinging his resolve. A light smack against his face stopped his hyperventilating, staring into Damien’s red eyes worriedly.  
  
Damien smirked, “Tell me something I’d like to hear and you’ll get to know. You’ve been very _very_ bad about not calling me the proper title, little bulldog.”  
  
Kyle’s face fell into a grim, stoney line. Two options here. Either he let Damien cause him more humiliation, or he drove himself stark-raving mad trying to figure out what’d happened. He sighed irritably, “Master, I’m yours,” he said dryly, rolling his eyes. He screeched as a more violent smack slammed into his face. Pained tears welled and he fought them down with desperate breaths, meeting Damien’s glare.  
  
“Do not disrespect me, little one,” he warned. “Be sincere in your words.”  
  
Kyle gulped and bit the inside of his lip. “Master, I’m yours,” he said softly, resisting his sarcastic tendencies to fuck him over again.  
  
Damien smirked and nodded approvingly. “Now, thank me for what I did to you the last time we saw each other.” Kyle paused, a part of him knew this was coming. He bridled with anger and humiliation, feeling his screaming stomach and throat begging him to just fucking deal with it. But _god_ letting that slip through would be the equivalent of Kyle just handing his king to Damien to capture on the first move. He grated his lip furiously, battling his options before Damien shook him. “Ten seconds, Pup,” he said.  
  
Kyle groaned to himself, taking a deep breath. “Thank. You. Master.” he worked out through clenched teeth.  
  
“Thank you for what, my pet?” Damien grinned, his eyes dancing, basking in his moment.  
  
Kyle gave him a pleading look to not make him go further, but a sharp tug of his chained collar told him he wasn’t getting out of this one. But he had to know. He had to know what Damien had to tell him. He hadn’t known about _anything_ since he got brought down...it was eating him alive. He dropped his head embarrassedly, getting pulled back up to stare at Damien’s face, looking at him with childlike expectancy. “Thank you...” he gulped, feeling his face on fire beneath the chilled water still lingering on his skin. “For fucking me,” his body convulsed with the words in absolute disgust. He watched Damien’s grin grow wider and trembled.  
  
“The whole thing, altogether, if you please, my pup. Then you’ll not only get my news, but you’ll get let out of your chains.”  
  
Kyle sighed and nodded. “Thank you for fucking me, Master,” he managed to work out, amazed with his own reserve at not either rolling his eyes again nor spontaneously combusting into flame. He’d be hard pressed not to pray for the latter though. He yelped as the grip around his collar and arms was suddenly lost, falling and sprawling onto the ground. He groaned in agony as his arms and legs sprang back to life, muscles and nerves all screaming in throbbing motions. He hissed as Damien grabbed his arms and hauled him up onto the sides of his scorching legs, staring at him amusedly.  
  
“Now, it’s news regarding your friends, Marsh, McCormick, and Cartman.” Kyle’s eyes shot open. Oh no. Oh no what happened?! He looked up at Damien, biting his lip.  
  
“What...happened?” he worked out through the pain. Damien gave him an expectant look and a small kick and he groaned. “MASTER. WHAT HAPPENED, MASTER?!” he screeched out, leaning his head back against Damien’s leg and panting in anguish.  
  
Damien chuckled, patting his head. “I’ll show you,” he grinned deviously. Kyle’s heart soared. He was going home? He would have a fighting chance with the three of them there to save him! Damien slapped his head and he hissed, looking up to see a glare. “You’re not ‘going home’,” he said dryly. “I’ll show you what _is_ happening on Earth, however. Should you behave. Will you?”  
  
He nodded, “Yes, Master.”   
  
“Good, now, hold still,” he said, reaching down and placing a hand against Kyle’s forehead. “ _osténdam illi salutáre meum veritatem_ ,” he said. Kyle raised his brow questionably before jerking back, his head becoming overflowed with visions of home. Of his friends.  
  
There they were. Sitting there. Just talking to each other. Kyle blinked. It was the library. Why were they there? He heard the distinct sound of Stan and Kenny’s quiet laughter and nearly burst into tears. He missed the sound so fucking much. His mind focused in on them sitting around a table talking.  
  
“Fuck this,” Cartman suddenly said, throwing a book to the side. “We’re never gonna find that fuckin’ Jewrat and you fuckers need to accept it.” Kyle’s heart sunk. No. No...  
  
Kenny and Stan looked at him angrily before their expressions softened a bit and they turned to each other. “He...he has a point,” Stan said quietly. “It’s been so fucking long...” he sighed and looked down at his book, tracing over the lines of text with a gentle index finger.   
  
“Stan?” Kyle’s voice cracked. His best friend wouldn’t do that to him. _Never_. This wasn’t right. This had to be a trick!  
  
“I mean...how the fuck do you fight the fuckin’ devil, ya know?” he winced. “If we get Ky back, who’s to say he won’t kill us and just take him again?”  
  
Kenny bit his lip and sighed, “Well...we have to at least _try_.” Kyle nodded briskly. Try. Oh god, Kenny _try_.  
  
Cartman scoffed, “We _have_ tried,” he reminded him. “For for-fucking-ever! Kahl’s stuck. Hell, he’s probably already dead!”  
  
Kenny and Stan froze, looking back at each other worriedly. Kyle’s jaw dropped and trembled, the scene in front of him quickly turning into a nightmare. “I’m...I’m not...” he worked out, shaking his head slowly.  
  
“What if he is?” Stan asked quietly. “Ken? You’d know better than anyone.”  
  
Kenny leaned back and wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “Damien’s...not a good guy,” he said quietly. “If he wanted Ky dead, well...he would be.”  
  
“I’M NOT DEAD!” Kyle managed to screech, wanting to reach through and punch the three of them in the face to realize he was still there. He still needed them. He was _desperate_ to see them again, to hear them again. He needed Stan’s super best friend hug. He needed Kenny to make him the cup of coffee he always made whenever Kyle got upset. Hell, he needed Cartman to rip on him for being Jewish. He needed them back. They couldn’t just fucking give up on him!  
  
He watched in horror as the three of them slowly closed their books, looking at each other with heavy eyes. “What if we’re leaving him when he needs us though?” Stan asked quietly.  
 “YOU ARE!”  
  
Cartman shrugged, tossing his book onto a pile at the edge of the table. “The chances ain’t in that favor, Hippie. Besides, he won’t know the difference,” he shrugged again.   
  
Kyle looked at them all, focusing on Kenny. His eyes welled with tears. Kenny couldn’t do this to him. Ken would _never_ abandon him. He knew Damien. He’d be the one who could save him. He _had_ to! The blonde shifted uncomfortably and sighed. “I-I’ll keep lookin’ for him in Hell but...but it’d probably take me eternity to find him,” he winced. “But...maybe we should stop trying up here. We’re just wasting our time.”  
  
Stan and Cartman nodded, staring at the table quietly. Kyle sat, completely stunned. Tears ran down his face in free fall, the agonizing tingle of his limbs becoming moot. Three of the four people that mattered most to him weren’t willing to help him. He was alone. He was fucking _alone_.  
  
The vision suddenly blanked out and he blinked, still staring straight ahead of him at the wall. He barely felt Damien crouch down above him, stroking through his hair. “I know that must be hard on you, Pup,” he said softly. “But I thought you deserved to know what kind of friends they really are.”  
  
Kyle finally turned, slowly looking at him. “You’re lying,” he whispered. “That didn’t happen.”  
  
“How do you figure, little one?” he questioned.  
  
“Stan and Kenny...would never turn their backs on me,” he said, tears betraying his words as they dripped down his cheeks. “T-they’re going to get me out, you fuck.” He yelped as Damien scratched his back for the term. He shuddered, his head dropping towards the ground as he stared at his useless legs. “They’re going to save me,” he whispered, closing his burning eyes.  
  
Damien paused, petting his hair again. “No, they’re not.” he said bluntly. “Even if they were still working on it, they’d never be able to find you, my Kyle. I have you somewhere where no one knows where you are but myself and the demons that clean you. And they know the punishment should they spill my little secret.”  
  
Kyle’s eyes opened again listlessly. “Secret?” he repeated, looking back at him. “You...” he narrowed his gaze a tad. “You’re not allowed to have me here...are you?” he whispered.  
  
Damien took a deep breath and shrugged. “I’m the son of Satan. I do as I wish.”  
  
“Unless it’s against Satan’s orders,” he countered. “You’re not supposed to keep me...you’re afraid He’ll find me, aren’t you?” he questioned. Damien slapped his face again, sending him sprawling down onto the ground on his side. He groaned, looking up as Damien loomed overtop of him with an evil scowl.  
  
“Doggies don’t ask so many questions,” he spat, kicking Kyle’s stomach and watching him curl into himself weakly. The demon stared at him and shook his head. “Your friends know your fate, why don’t _you_?”  
  
Kyle looked up at him frailly, “Because I know you better than they do,” he whispered, his eyes drooping. He chuckled exhaustedly, “Master or not, I fucking know what you’re doing isn’t okay. Your dad will find out. And I’ll be free...You just fucking wait.”  
  
Damien stared at him, a furious grimace taking over his usually calm demeanor. “Little doggie hasn’t learned his place, hm?” he questioned, kicking him again and watching him slide back against the stone with a subdued yelp. “Well, let me remind him of something,” he hissed, reaching down and grabbing through his hair, pulling him back upright and staring at his pain-filled glassy green eyes. “I’ve kept you well hidden for a very _very_ long time,” he said darkly. “And you can’t get out. You can’t talk to anyone on the outside. Your friends have given _up_ on you,” he spat, grinning as that little tidbit made Kyle’s determined exterior flinch in the slightest. “No one is going to find you, little one. You just keep that in mind. The sooner you give into me, the better. I’d hate to see you continue to suffer,” he scoffed, throwing Kyle down again and standing back up. He quickly waved his hand, chaining Kyle’s wrists in front of him and shaking his head. “You can go another few weeks without food or water,” he said blandly. “You’ve been very naughty.”  
  
Kyle looked up at him, a snarky half-grin crossing his face, sending Damien’s chest into a furious twist. “Sorry, Master...” he closed his eyes and chuckled softly, “It just upsets me that you won’t be my owner much longer.”  
  



	12. Chapter 12

**Present Day - Week 13**  
  
Sitting side by side huddled in a small conference room, Kenny and Kyle basked in the moment’s peace. It was a tad odd not having Stan being alongside them, but apparently despite his numerous protests, his parents thought it was a better idea for him to be working around the house. Kyle had managed to tell him that he didn’t mind and he’d come by after his appointment, and Stan sent Kenny off with the look that told him ‘take care of my best friend or I’ll fucking kill you’. The blonde wasn’t about to chance that he was just kidding around. Kenny’s eyes would occasionally flicker to Kyle’s, breathing a sigh of relief in the subdued red outlines. Managing to convince Mackey to have Kyle’s appointment in the synagogue had been an easy enough task, the man had been ripping out what little hair he had left trying to break through and get Kyle to talk about himself instead of just Damien.  
  
Kyle let out a long yawn, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He caught Kenny’s staring and smiled at him a bit. “Thanks,” he whispered exhaustedly.  
  
Ken gave him a small smile back and nodded, “Anytime, Dude. You feelin’ okay?”  
  
It was a loaded question, one that Kyle almost didn’t know how to answer. There was so much going on with his body right now. It felt as though it were constantly struggling, and he had no idea what it was for. He opted to just nod, tonguing over his lips thoughtfully. “Ken...” he said slowly, wrapping his thin fingers around a water bottle on the table. A question had been weighing on his mind for almost two weeks. He had to get his answer before it drove him to madness. “Kiss...why...” he blinked at him, hoping Kenny could fill in the blanks himself. The blonde certainly could, and he gulped embarrassedly.  
  
“I-I’m sorry,” he winced, biting his lip. “That wasn’t cool of me to do, Kyle.”  
  
He shook his head, grabbing Kenny’s arm softly. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “But...why?”  
  
Kenny stared at him and let out a heavy sigh. “I’m just worried about you...” he said slowly, a faint blush crossing his cheeks. Kyle cocked his head a bit in confusion. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Kenny blush before. He tugged on the blonde’s arm and Kenny looked at him confusedly. He rubbed his faded eyes a bit and tried giving him as firm a look as he could manage.   
  
“Again,” he said quietly.  
  
Ken recoiled a bit and blinked in shock. “W-what again?”  
  
“Kiss...me...again,” he worked out slowly. He knew Damien couldn’t touch him in here, didn’t even know if he could see him in this building. But Kenny had reassured him that it was safe, and he believed every word that ever came out of his mouth. He always had.  
  
Kenny’s blue eyes sparked with intrigue and loss, like he’d just won a lottery that he’d never entered. “You’re sure?” Kyle nodded briskly. He wanted this. Being cut off from Damien was giving him stilted memories of times long passed, but he knew one thing: Kenny was always shining in those recollections. Something was calling out to him. Something deep inside him was demanding he take his opportunity while he had it. Kenny nodded, hesitantly leaning forward and kissing Kyle’s forehead. Kyle backed up and shook his head, pushing back towards him and slowly planting their lips together. Kenny’s eyes widened in surprise before letting them slip closed as he let out a small moan, his hand gently coming up and cupping Kyle’s face. Kyle let out a shuddery breath against his mouth, his hand weakly curling into Kenny’s sweatshirt. Something inside of him was _singing_. Some beautiful choir was ringing in his ears, a part of his fogged mind settling as he embraced the moment with everything he had. This was real. Everything about this wonderful aria was _real_.  
  
Kyle finally had to pull back for a breath and did so unwillingly. The two of them rested their foreheads together, staring deep into each other’s eyes. Kyle’s lips curled into a smile and Ken’s followed suit. Kyle coughed softly, astounded with the whirlwind of flashbacks penetrating like colored lightening. Faded visions of himself staring at Kenny in hallways, talking to him at every opportunity he got, giving him food and shelter and whatever he needed to spend more time with him were beginning to flood back to him...they nearly winded him. A soft whisper escaped him, “You...I wanted...you...” he put together, almost in shock.  
  
Kenny stared in awed silence for a bit before laughing softly, kissing him again. “Same to you,” he murmured.  
  
Kyle backed off and stared at him questionably, “Then why...” he trailed off, looking for his words, becoming increasingly frustrated as he couldn’t. A hand trailed up in his hair and he flinched, expecting to feel claws, instead Kenny’s soothing, soft fingertips running through the curls. He nearly sank into his seat at the moment, his heart rate calming and his worries seeming to melt down into the thinly carpeted floor.  
  
“I was scared,” Kenny murmured, piecing together Kyle’s question with ease. “I didn’t want you to hate me or feel awkward around me...” he shrugged sheepishly. “Didn’t know you had a thing for me back and didn’t want to fuck up the friendship. You know, that cliche crap from sitcoms and whatnot,” he snorted.  
  
Kyle stared at him in bewilderment, a surging warmth breaking through him. Something about this moment was beyond serene. Kenny’s words were filling him with such breathtaking relief that a part of him feared it was only some wonderful dream; That he was back in his dungeon and would wake only for Damien to beat him again. He reached up and grabbed Kenny’s hand out of his hair, pulling it down and staring at it intensely. He bit his lip nervously. “How...do I know...” he paused, taking a raspy breath, “you’re...Kenny?” he asked, his eyes shining as he looked up to find icy blues mimicking his own.  
  
Kenny took a slow breath, giving Kyle such a puppy-dog expression he didn’t know how to respond to it. Grasping onto reality had become so hard for Kyle, and Ken couldn’t help but wonder what Damien had done to him to make it so difficult. “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “Ky, I don’t know _how_ to prove to you that I’m real...but I am,” he assured him. “Damien doesn’t know you like I do. He couldn’t. He can’t know who you actually are like me.”  
  
Kyle stared at him and nodded slowly, “Then...who am I?” he whispered.  
  
He smirked. “You’re Kyle Samael Broflovski,” he said matter-of-factly. “You’re a total nerd, type one diabetic, an awesome basketball player...” he trailed off, still seeing Kyle’s suspicious eyes at such basic statistics. He thought for a moment before smiling gently, “When we were fourteen, you found me bleeding on the train tracks after my dad beat the shit out of me,” he said slowly. “Your skinny ass weakling self picked me up and lugged me back to your house. You cleaned me up and fed me and wouldn’t let me leave for a week,” he smiled. Kyle looked down, searching around for the memory. Bits and pieces started slamming into him, but he still couldn’t put it together to make it a fluid movie.   
  
He tongued over his lips and narrowed his eyes at a particular mental image, “Soup.” he said quietly. “Red...soup.”  
  
Kenny nodded briskly, grasping his hand tightly. “Yeah! You made us tomato soup because you knew how much I loved it. You spilled some on the couch bringing it out to me and your mom yelled at you for like an hour,” he snickered. Kyle’s lips turned upwards in the slightest. Something was there. That memory was buried deep in the chaos of his ever-fighting subconscious, but he could see it. It was unbelievable, it was _there_. He smiled, tears welling in his eyes before he weakly propelled himself forward and clasped around Kenny as tightly as he could.  
  
“You’re real,” he whispered, clinging onto him and sniffling.  
  
Kenny clutched back around him, swinging him gently in his hold. “Yeah, Ky. I’m real,” he nodded. Kyle coughed again and broke off of him, grabbing his bottle and taking a long sip, more than thankful that Damien had given him another reprieve of asking for permission the night before. Kenny stared at him for a moment and his heart sank. “Ky?” he waited for green eyes to flicker back to him. “Are you drinking that...because you want to or because Damien said you could?”   
  
The redhead shied down embarrassedly and shrugged. “Him,” he whispered. “He’s still...my...master,” he licked his lips a bit. “Have to,” he slunk defeatedly.  
  
Kenny sighed and shook his head. “He’s not, Ky. He’s not your master. He’s a no good-” he stopped and they both looked up as Mackey walked into the room, shooting the two of them a smile.  
  
“Well, Kyle, looks like you’re drinking on your own?” he asked excitedly. Kenny shook his head and the man sighed, closing the door behind him and walking over, taking a seat across from them. “M’kay, did Damien give you permission, then?” Kyle nodded, putting his bottle back on the table and turning to face the man. Mackey looked over and saw the same helplessness in Kenny’s eyes and sighed once more. “So, how’ve you been Kyle?”  
  
“Okay,” he responded softly and the man nearly jerked back in his seat. His jaw dropped. Kyle talked about himself. He hadn’t done that yet in the few months they’d been seeing each other.  
  
He quickly regathered his bearings and cleared his throat. “So, you wanna talk about you now, Kyle?”  
  
Kyle blinked and shrugged, “I guess?” he whispered, his hand blindly reaching over and grabbing Kenny’s tightly. The blonde blinked before smiling warmly and looking at the ecstatic man before them.  
  
“Damien can’t get to him in here, at least not as well,” Kenny explained, gesturing around. “Religious buildings are his kryptonite. That’s why I told you this would be better than your office.”  
  
He nodded briskly, pulling a notepad out of his pocket and quickly jotting notes across the margins. He was getting overly excited, Kyle’s case had been driving him to the breaking edge of his own insanity. He looked back up to see the redhead staring at him and smiled, “M’kay, Kyle. Now, you don’t have to answer any of these...but I’m gonna ask them anyway, m’kay?” he waited for the permissive nod before continuing. “Why do you think Damien took you away, Kyle?”  
  
The redhead paused, slowly looking up at Kenny. The blonde’s heart sank, his guilt starting to overflow once again. Kyle dropped his eyes to the table and shrugged. “I-I don’t know,” he whispered. “He liked...me...because I...fought him...” he struggled out. “A-and...I tried to...escape... _bad dog_ ,” he muttered out of reflex.  
  
“No, Kyle,” Ken said firmly. “You’re not a dog.” Kyle flinched a bit before nodding briskly, looking off to the side with a flustered face.  
  
“M’kay, hold on, Ken,” Mackey stopped him, staring at the shy boy. “Kyle, why do you think you’re a dog?”  
  
He looked back up defeatedly and sighed. “Trained,” he said simply.   
  
“And how did he train you?” he bit his lip, his fingers curled around his pen anxiously. He hadn’t gotten Kyle to actually tell him any of the things Damien did to him. This might be his shot.  
  
Kyle scratched his head nervously. “Chains...collar...c-cut my legs...” he bit his lip.  
  
“M’kay, and why did he cut your legs?”  
  
Kyle’s eyes glazed over a bit, “Dogs stay below their masters,” he recited in a deadened voice.  
  
“Oh Jesus,” Kenny’s jaw dropped, staring at the mess he’d created. His hand clenched tighter around Kyle’s, feeling like Damien would somehow break the barrier and come take him all over again. “W-what else, Ky?” he whispered, petrified of the answer.  
  
He shrugged, “No plate...”  
  
“No plate?” Mackey repeated with a raised brow.  
  
He nodded, “Eat like...dog. On...floor.”  
  
Mackey nodded solemnly, taking a deep, calming breath. “You went through a lot, Kyle,” he said gently. “Did he...” he trailed off, wondering vaguely if the wrong turn of phrase would send Kyle spiraling deeper into his isolation. He had to know though, it was the only way to keep working through him. “Did he ever take advantage of you, Kyle?” he asked point blank. Kyle nodded and the man saw Kenny tensing, motioning subtly for the blonde to calm down. One emotionally volatile person was enough for right now. “M’kay and was it...often?” he winced.  
  
“Yes,” he whispered. “My body...his,” he gestured to himself.  
  
“No, Kyle your body is yours, m’kay?” he insisted.  
  
Kyle gave a sad smile, shaking his head. He knew the man meant well, but it was moot. He knew well enough that Damien claimed him, that he wasn’t going to be finding his way out any time soon. He clutched Kenny’s hand just a tad tighter and sighed, brushing his bangs out of his eyes before locking gazes with the man across from him. “No. His.”  
  


* * *

  
  
**Day 450**  
  
Damien was never one for doing his job with finesse. Sending souls left and right to their designated areas of torture was fun for awhile, but after a few years, it lost the sting. The only thing he cared about was getting back to where he kept Kyle, watching him withering away day by day under his whim. It was the only intoxicating thrill he had anymore. He sighed, watching with a bored eye at an array of demons scurrying about and herding screaming people towards their assigned layers. He smirked a tad to himself at the group being hounded off to the second circle, his _favorite_. He’d kept Kyle locked in a tight little corner in there for so long, feeding off the carnal aura that constantly beamed through. It did nothing but make him hungrier for his prize, and he reveled in it.  
  
“Master Damien?” a voice called. He groaned and rolled his eyes, looking down from his raised platform to see a small, inky demon with blazing blue eyes staring up at him.  
  
“What?” he spat. He wasn’t fond of doing his duties here, but someone asking for him just meant even more work was to be done and less time to watch over his pet.  
  
The demon bowed respectfully and cleared its throat, “Your father has called for you.”  
  
Damien blinked, wondering what his dad could want with him. They usually saw each other for splitting up sentencing duties once a day, and they’d already done that. He let out a hum and nodded. “Send Gragor to keep watch then,” he ordered before letting his body sink down into the platform. He sighed as he traveled through the void, brushing his thick hair out of his eyes and waiting in boredom for his journey to be over. He finally made his way up through the floor of Satan’s office, looking to find the Beast hunched over his desk and staring at paperwork. “Whaddya want, Old man?” he demanded, smirking as Satan flew back in shock.  
  
He placed a hand over his large chest and breathed heavily. “Damien! Jesus Christ you scared me half to death!”  
  
He cocked his brow, “I’m not even gonna _begin_ to go into what’s wrong with that entire statement.” He sighed, heading over to a large, plush chair and plopping down into it sideways. “One of the minions told me you called?” he looked up at him questionably.  
  
Satan cleared his throat and nodded, pushing the paperwork out of his way and staring down at his son firmly, his hands folding together. “Damien, I’ve heard...rumors.”  
  
“Oh? Really? In Hell?” he stared with mocking surprise. “Oh my god, Dad! Next you’ll tell me someone said a...” he looked around suspiciously, leaning in and whispering, “ _curse word_.”   
  
The Beast frowned and shook his head, not in the mood to deal with his son’s sarcastic antics, “Damien, knock it off.” He watched as the boy scoffed, nestling down further into the chair. “No. I’ve heard a rumor regarding you and...a mortal,” he raised his brow.  
  
Damien bristled, looking up at his father in shock. How? How the _fuck_ could he know anything about that? He cleared his throat and resumed his calm demeanor. “I haven’t the slightest idea as to what you could mean,” he said innocently.  
  
“Nice try,” he replied dryly. “I questioned a few certain demons I saw wandering out of their allowances and they spilled the beans.”  
  
“Those little fuckers,” he muttered under his breath. He looked up and shrugged casually at Satan. “Yeah, so I got a mortal, so what?”  
  
“Damien, what the hell are you even doing with a mortal?” he questioned tiredly, rubbing his head with his thumb and forefinger.  
  
He smirked, “Having fun, Pops, that’s all.”  
  
He frowned and shook his head, getting to his cloven feet and pacing behind his desk. “You know you can’t have a mortal soul down here, Damien. It fucks with the system.”  
  
He rolled his eyes. “Really? Because I’ve had this kid for well over a year and we seem to be doing just fucking fine.”  
  
His brows raised in shock, “A year? You’ve had this mortal for over a _year_?”  
  
He nodded, grinning smugly. “Got him locked up and everything. No one knows about him but you, me, and the little demons whose necks I’m gonna snap,” he smirked.  
  
He snorted and shook his head, “Sent them off somewhere to be hidden, Damien. They’re good workers, I won’t have you breaking their necks for doing their jobs.”  
  
“See? And this is why you’re such a lame Lord of the Underworld, Dad,” he quirked a brow. He sighed, turning around in his chair and staring up at his father. “I want to keep this mortal, Pops.”  
  
He paused his pacing, leaning over his desk and staring at him. He knew that look. Damien had found something that he was going to go down kicking and screaming to keep a hold of. But having a mortal soul interfered with their processing. Satan hadn’t been able to figure out where the mild disturbances they’d had the past year was coming from, but knowing his son, it should have clicked much sooner than it did. “Who exactly _is_ this mortal?”  
  
“Name’s Kyle Broflovski,” he shrugged.  
  
His brows furrowed, looking at his desk at the familiarity, “Kyle Brof-,” he paused with realization. “Kenny’s friend?”  
  
He nodded, “Yeah. I’m surprised McCormick hasn’t come crying to you yet over not being able to find him.”  
  
“I’ve seen Kenny running around like crazy when he comes down but I never questioned it,” he shrugged, recalling watching the blonde scurrying around each layer of Hell looking like he was desperately searching for something. This certainly explained the odd behavior past what Satan’s imagination reached. “He’s always been a weird kid.” Damien snorted, nodding in agreement. Satan quickly turned back into a serious scowl at his son. “What exactly are you doing to Kyle?”  
  
He tilted his head, picking some ash off his shirt casually. “Performed the soul-binding ritual. Making him into my little sex slave. You know, the usual,” he grinned sheepishly.  
  
Satan stared at him in astonishment. A part of him knew he shouldn’t be too shocked, Damien had a knack for trying out unusual incantations to sate his boredom. This one was far out of his own realm though, he’d only heard of it himself. He knew well enough, however, that Damien was playing with much too large a fire for even him to handle. “Usual? That ritual’s been done _once_ , Damien. And what the hell do you need a mortal toy for? You have all the goddamn second layer to screw around with!” he gestured around wildly.  
  
The boy chuckled, “What can I say? I like the challenge. And that mortal has been _nothing_ but a challenge, trust me,” he rolled his eyes, though a gleam of amusement beamed through them like a shooting star.  
  
“Whaddya mean?”  
  
He scoffed, “He’s a wily little fucker, that’s what. My soul still hasn’t taken his stubborn ass over!”  
  
He blinked in shock. Mortal or not, Kyle should have been taken over _long_ before now. It was intriguing to say the very _very_ least. “Seriously?”  
 “Seriously.”  
  
“Wow...” he mused. He shook his head out of his dumbfounded stupor and went back to glaring. “Damien, I don’t care what you wanted to do with Kyle, but you have to send him back to Earth. You _can’t_ keep him here. He’s mortal, and mortals don’t belong down in Hell until they pass. You know this. It’s rule number goddamn one, Son.”  
  
“But he’s mostly my soul now!” he protested, jumping onto his feet and sneering up at his father. “His soul is _losing,_ Dad, which means he’s edging closer and closer towards it being under my control. He’s mine whether his little intractable ass believes it or not!”  
  
The Beast groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose exhaustively. “You _can’t_ keep him down here. Because if you’ve done the soul transfer, it means he _can’t die_.”  
  
“Well neither can McCormick but we keep taking his sorry ass in,” he pouted.  
  
He rolled his eyes, “There’s one very very key difference. McCormick will -most likely- one day pass on. You’ve literally made Kyle a full-fledged immortal. The problem is, you performed the ritual on a _living_ soul.”  
  
“Well that’s kinda what immortal means, Dad,” he said blandly.  
  
He frowned, “The Binding of Souls is meant for souls who have already passed. Kyle is half living and half dead. He’s _literally_ a zombie.”  
  
“So? "  
  
“SO?!” he threw his arms up in exasperation. “So when your soul finally _does_ take over, he’ll be _nothing_. And I mean he won’t move or speak or anything.”  
  
“That’s the goal,” he grinned.  
  
He quirked his brow, “No. Your goal is to make him your ‘sex slave’,” he air quoted. “Not much of one if he can’t even lift his head. Besides, if you like the challenge, it kind of defeats the purpose, dontcha think?”   
  
Damien stared at him and pouted again, shrugging sheepishly, “I paralyzed him once and that was fun.”  
  
“Really?” he rolled his eyes. “Is that _all_ you want to do? I’ll buy you a fucking blow up doll if that’s what you’re looking for in a partner, Damien.”  
  
“Jesus Christ, Dad,” he groaned, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Don’t fucking talk about blow up dolls in front of me.”  
  
He stared at him incredulously, “We are literally talking about you making a mortal your whore, Damien! I think we’ve passed the boundaries already, God!” He shook his head and sighed, rubbing his temple. “You have to send him back to Earth. If your soul takes him over completely, it’ll eat him from the inside out. His entire body will shut down, but he won’t be able to die. Is that what you want, Damien?” he quirked his brow. “Something with no pulse, no blood, practically in rigor mortis?”  
  
“No,” he scowled, crossing his arms and kicking listlessly at the ash beneath his feet. He’d been working way too long and way too purposefully to let Kyle become literally nothing. Damien had come to rather enjoy _hearing_ Kyle being submissive, even if it wasn’t how he truly felt. The idea of him being completely under his thumb and speaking to him as such without prompt was enough of an idea to make him transport right back to the redhead and throw him down. Losing all of his hard work...it would be such a disappointment. He loved Kyle’s fire. He wanted to continue to kindle it. He looked back up towards his father with a deep grimace. “But I don’t want to lose him either,” he hissed. “I’ll send him back to Earth _only_ if I can hold on to him.”  
  
Satan stared down at him for a few moments before nodding tiredly. He knew better. Damien wasn’t going to back down on this one. And the Beast himself wasn’t very fond of the idea of a mortal being tied down as a husk, even under his own son. He’d have to concede with Damien on this one. He knew well enough he didn’t have the power to make it all disappear from Kyle. “All right,” he agreed. “Then you need to give him an assignment. You need to make it so he’s giving you more power whether he knows it or not.”  
  
Damien narrowed his eyes confusedly, “A soul gatherer? Dad, I’ve got this kid doped up with atrophy and shit. He can’t go around killing people.”  
  
“Nor would he,” he raised his brow. “I’ve heard Kenny’s stories, too ya know. Kyle’s too nice of a person to go around killing people, he’d rather just rot away than do that.”  
  
He snorted proudly, “I don’t know. I could probably push him to that edge.”  
  
“Not if you still own him,” he reminded him grimly. If Kyle was still fighting against Damien’s hold, then there was no way he’d be willing to do something so dark if it was his wish. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “You could always teach him a revitalization spell. A temporary one anyway, to get his body back up and running to what it was before...”  
  
“Doesn’t help with him not killin’ people, Pops,” he shrugged.  
  
He looked at him and quirked his brow. “You’re making him into a sex slave? Use _that_ to your advantage.”  
  
Damien stared at him in bewilderment before his red eyes widened. Was his father actually suggesting that he _share_ what he’d worked so hard to create? That he just hand Kyle over to any mortal and let them have their hands all over his prize? He frowned. “A succubus? Can he even do that?”  
  
“With the right spells, yes,” he nodded. He couldn’t help but smirk inwardly. He knew that look on Damien’s face. The one that screamed that he wasn’t going to take someone messing with his possessions very lightly. However, Satan knew well enough that this would suit its purpose. Get Kyle out and punish Damien for going against his wishes. Everyone won. “He goes off now and then, fucks some guy, gets their soul and it goes to you and makes yours keep a hold on him even if he’s on Earth. But...” he trailed off and shook his head with a disappointed sigh.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I hate to say this, I absolutely _hate_ to give you this fucking power trip,” he rolled his eyes. “But if Kyle’s still resisting you...you’re gonna have to break him down even further. Otherwise you _will_ lose your hold on him. You need to get him right to the brink of your soul devouring his.” He let out a heavy sigh. Were he able to, he knew he’d just send Kyle out and on his merry way back to Earth. But no. Damien would have to do it, and if he wanted to keep his hold on such a fiery mortal, he’d have to do it correctly. The two of them stared at each other for a long, arduous moment, a twinkle passing through Damien’s eye that Satan couldn’t help but smirk at.   
  
Damien smiled maliciously and chuckled. “Well, I certainly see no problems there. I’ve already laid the foundation for him to start sliding back. I’ll have my little doggie shattered soon enough...” He paused, staring up at his father with a wider grin, “But...there is one thing that I need _you_ to do for me.”  
  
  



	13. Chapter 13

**Day 460**  
  
Kyle groaned tiredly, his head pounding in frustration. He listlessly flicked his nail against the iron around his wrists. He couldn’t get his friends’ voices out of his head, their expressions. He couldn’t deny it, he was terrified that this was really it for him. Maybe they _had_ given up on him. He sniffled and curled into himself, staring at the floor with glazed eyes. He wondered what they were doing. He had no idea how much time had passed, what time of year it even was. Maybe Stan was off playing football, or crying over a breakup with Wendy again. Maybe Cartman was, well he had no doubt that he was stuffing his face. But with what? Powdered Donut Pancake Surprise? Cheesy Poofs? Kyle’s stomach growled and he moaned again. Thinking about that was probably not in his best interest. He sighed, his mind landing on Kenny. What could he be doing? He smiled sadly, wondering if he was running around Hell looking for him like he had said. He didn’t know how he could possibly do it, but he just didn’t care. He just wanted Kenny to find him and hold him for awhile. Tell him it’d all be okay in that comforting way that only he could bring to situations that got out of hand. He wiped some tears from his eyes and nestled further into the stone. This was just too much.  
  
He heard the door opening and shot his head over angrily, the expression dropping slowly as a much larger figure than he was used to came into his red-lit domain. He struggled and sat himself up onto his legs, biting his lip hopefully.  
  
Satan appeared in front of him, looking at the mess of the small boy and shaking his head. His son had certainly knew how to make trouble, that was for damn sure. “Hello, Kyle,” he said gently.  
  
“Satan. Satan,” he rasped, tears escaping his eyes. “Satan, help me. For the love of God, help me, please!” he begged. “I-I’ll sell my soul or something. Just get me out of here!”  
  
He knelt down in front of him and patted his head sympathetically. “Unfortunately, Damien took your soul’s ownership, Kyle. I can’t trade you for something that’s not yours anymore.” He watched the boy sinking into himself miserably and took a deep breath. “You can’t get out of here. Not without Damien’s permission. I’m sorry.”  
  
Kyle’s world shattered around him. His one hope; The _only_ one he had left...Vanished. “B-but...” he stammered, looking around desperately. “But you’re...you’re his _dad_ ,” he emphasized. “Aren’t you more powerful?”  
  
He smiled lopsidedly, not able to help the feeling of pity for the frail child in front of him. This wasn’t the Kyle of Kenny’s stories. He was far too weak now, Damien had done too much of a number on him. He sighed and shook his head, “I’m sorry, Kyle,” he said. “Damien controls what happens to you because of his ritual. It’s out of my hands.” He stood up, crossing his arms and shifting uncomfortably. He’d seen more than his share of tortures down here, but this was just too far.  
  
Kyle’s mouth gaped, green eyes shining in complete helplessness. This wasn’t happening. This _couldn’t_ be happening. “Kenny,” he whispered, noticing the name caught The Beast’s attention. “Please...tell Kenny where I am,” he begged. “M-maybe he can-”  
  
“Not a smart move, Pup,” Damien’s voice beamed through. Kyle flinched, looking over to the side, seeing the boy standing there with a dark grin on his face. He stepped up and kicked Kyle’s side, sending him back onto the ground, looking at the two demonic figures towering above him in fear. “Father won’t tell McCormick a fucking thing,” he smirked. “You belong to whom after all?” Kyle was silent, stewing in rage before Damien’s shoe slammed down onto his skull, pressing him down onto the stone. “Answer the question, little one,” he said in boredom.  
  
“You,” he whispered, tears beading the corners of his bloodshot eyes. Damien’s foot pressed him further and he whined, trying to squirm out of the hold. “You, Master!” he corrected, gritting his teeth. His body slumped as Damien finally relinquished the pressure. Kyle lied on the ground, motionless, staring at the cloven feet of Satan and sniffling. This had to be a nightmare. The worst fucking nightmare in history.  
  
Damien and his father looked at each other, his son giving a victorious smirk. The Beast sighed, shaking his head and looking at the mess of a boy on the floor. “I’m sorry, Kyle,” he said again before glancing at his son. “Make it quick,” he ordered.  
  
“Mm, but haven’t you always told me that patience gets the job done right, Pops?” he grinned deviously before looking down at Kyle’s trembling frame. “And there’s just so much more work to be done with him,” he murmured, tonguing over his fangs hungrily.   
  
Satan just shook his head again, making his way out the iron door. He slammed it behind him, crossing his arms and looking at the ground thoughtfully. He flinched as the clear sound of Kyle yelping was strewn through the heavy barrier. He sighed, turning and heading back out towards the barrier Damien had lied out to hid him in the layer. Stepping through, he watched with listless eyes as scattered souls were prodded and burned, screaming for reprieve. He walked up to a woman curled up and sobbing on the ground in fear. She stared at him with terrified eyes and he shot her a smile. “Only a few  week’s worth of this,” he promised her. “Then you can do whatever the hell you want down here. ‘Eternal’ damnation was made up to scare you.” He turned, feeling her confused gaze on his back as he made his way through the layer. He glanced towards Damien’s barrier and shook his head. “Just a few more months, Kyle,” he murmured. “Then _you_ can do whatever the hell you want.”  
  
 **...**  
  
Damien’s hands wrapped zealously around Kyle’s arms, bringing him up towards his face. Kyle whined and squirmed in the hold, trying to thrash out but knowing he was far past the point of being able to do so. He was so fucking hungry, so thirsty. He was fading off. He could feel how disgustingly conspicuous his ribcage had become, how his arms and legs had lost their muscle, reduced to thin limbs that lacked the subtle strength he’d always carried with him. He was trapped. Satan couldn’t help him. His friends _wouldn’t_. He looked into Damien’s red eyes, gleaming so brightly with triumph it nearly made Kyle sick. For a good while they stayed as such, Damien reveling in his prize’s defeat, Kyle trying desperately to kick in his dusted wits and find his way out.  
  
The redhead finally broke the silence, his voice shallow and weak, “Why me?”  
  
Damien chuckled, tossing him back onto the ground. “Because I fucking wanted you and that’s what I got,” he smirked.  
  
“But...why _me_?” he pleaded. “What...what did Kenny tell you that made you want me so fucking badly?!”  
  
He shrugged casually, “What can I say? I’ve always liked a little bit of fire,” he grinned sardonically. Kyle’s body slacked against the ground. He knew. He wasn’t getting his answer. He wasn’t getting _anything_. Damien stared at his defeated posture and couldn’t help the shiver of excitement flashing through him. He was getting so close to having him completely unbridled. It was exhilarating. “On your knees, little bulldog,” he ordered, nearly jumping with glee as Kyle struggled to set himself up without question, staring up at Damien with glazed eyes. He was too tired to fight today. He just couldn’t make himself. He was far too weak from Damien’s deprivations, from Satan’s words...it was too much. His eyes flickered down, noticing the bulge in Damien’s jeans and shuddering. “Well, looks like you know just what you need to be doing, my pet,” Damien taunted.  
  
Kyle sighed, knowing well enough that he had no choice in the matter. “May I have water first, Master?” he grumbled. He had to make this less terrible, and that was the one relief he could possibly get out of the disaster. Damien looked up thoughtfully before nodding in approval, his eyes pulsing and a puddle appearing on the floor in-between the both of them.   
  
“Go right ahead,” he permitted. He watched, his insides dancing as Kyle didn’t hesitate to lower himself down, licking the water off the floor compliantly. This was working so well. Everything about it was going _perfectly_. He could still feel the anger and shame bouncing off of the redhead, swimming around the both of them, but he certainly wasn’t showing it. Kyle was just too desperate at this point. He didn’t want hit again, he just wanted some form of reprieve. His tongue scraped along the stone, managing to curl his tongue enough to get a bit of water traveling down his throat with every lick. He hated that he’d become so adept at drinking as such, but it was inevitable as long as he’d had to.  
  
For minutes on end Damien watched him with interest, Kyle focusing on trying to revitalize what little strength he had left. He nearly groaned in disappointment as the water was whisked away from him. He licked his lips, wiping some stray drops off his chin and looking back up at the monster before him. “I’m waiting,” Damien said calmly. Kyle let out a heavy sigh through his nose, fighting back up onto his knees and undoing Damien’s jeans. He shut his eyes in discomfort as his cock poked through towards him and he gulped. He hated this. He hated this so fucking much. He shifted himself closer, grabbing the skin and letting his lips wrap around the disturbingly familiar form. He let his tongue wander around, coating every bit his could as he tried bobbing his head down further each time. A flick on his forehead caught his attention and he paused, looking up with Damien’s cock jutting out of his mouth. The sight nearly made Damien blow his load right then and there, but he regained his composure and smiled. “Keep your eyes on me, Pup,” he ordered.  
  
Kyle blinked, letting out another trembling sigh but continuing his rhythm. His face flushed over radiantly under Damien’s scrutinizing gaze. Damien watched with interest as the vivid jades became subdued olives, practically _feeling_ Kyle dying inside from his overwhelming humiliation. His claws tangled into his curls and he moaned softly. “Hand off,” he demanded. Kyle reluctantly let his hand pumping his base fall to his side, keeping his eyes up on Damien’s. The demon smirked, beginning to thrust his hips down towards Kyle’s face. The boy panicked, feeling Damien’s cock hitting the back of his throat and trying to stop his gag reflex desperately. He fell into a choking fit, Damien relishing in his throat convulsing deliciously around his dick. Kyle’s eyes watered, struggling for some hint of air but failing to obtain it. His head began pounding, his temples throbbing with stabbing aches at each hack. The boy’s hands automatically went up, pushing back against Damien’s hips and pulling his head back.  
  
Damien grinned. He was still fighting. _Good_.  
  
He grunted, throwing Kyle down off of him, watching him slam down onto his side and continue to cough, spitting out saliva and precum still trying to drown him. He gasped desperately, clutching his throat and wheezing. “Such a bad _bad_ little doggie,” Damien said. The words made Kyle freeze, his choking ceasing along with his heart. Those words were never good. Something worse was coming his way, and seeing Damien’s slicked cock hanging out like a beacon, he had a feeling he knew exactly what it was.  
  
“Don’t,” he whimpered. “Please don’t.”  
  
“You know, you keep trying that method and it doesn’t ever work,” he quirked his brow amusedly. “Present yourself for me, Pup.”  
  
“I-I won’t,” he shook his head, his usual confidence spiraling downwards at the look on Damien’s face. He couldn’t seem to find that courage he usually had. He was just so tired. The glean of a challenge struck over Damien’s face and sent Kyle up onto his knees with a start, trying to back away from the hungry look. “I-I...Damien,” he tried, getting a surprised look out of the demon. He smacked his lips. That was a new look, he had to see where it got him. “Damien, please. I...I’m here,” he said. “You fucking have me chained up a-and...and being your fucking cocksucking toy,” he blushed, his teeth gritting a bit at the admittance and Damien’s pleased face. “Just...leave it like that. Please, Damien,” he bit his lip.  
  
Damien gave him a grin and a warm chuckle that chilled Kyle’s blood. The demon walked over, putting his hand in Kyle’s hair and petting through it. Kyle calmed slightly before fingers curled up in the locks and pulled his head up. “Nice try, Pup,” he smirked. “Begging so kindly without my prompting? You must be reaching your edge.” Kyle blinked, shaking his head a bit in the hold before being shaken still. “However,” Damien drawled. “You do not call me by that name, are we clear? You call me...?” he waited.  
  
“Master,” he finished weakly.  
  
“Very good,” he nodded. “Now. Do as I ordered or you won’t even get my mercy of being prepped,” he grinned. Kyle’s face fell and his shoulders heaved as he tried to control his overflowing emotions. Damien’s fingers untwisted from his curls and he bit his lip, trying to give his best begging face, met only with the waiting stare of a demon who’d gone too far. Kyle’s body slumped in failure. He didn’t have any way out of this, there was _one_ way for it not to hurt so badly. He bit his lip hard enough to draw his toxic blood out and he shuddered. “ _Now_ , Pup,” Damien demanded.  
  
He let out a heavy, shaking breath, slowly pivoting himself on his knees. He trembled, staring down at the floor with such deadened eyes. A small kick to his back made him fall forward gently to his arms. He let out a sob as he bent his front half down onto the stone, feeling Damien’s eyes scanning over his exposed self. His face burned against the cooled rock, his eyes shut tightly, whimpers softly breaking through the back of his throat. “Good boy,” Damien cooed, his hand caressing his ass and smacking the paled flesh. Kyle just gulped down dry breaths, just wanting this to be over with. Damien chuckled again and Kyle braced himself. That was never good... “Beg for it,” he ordered.  
  
Kyle froze, hearing Damien’s murmurs and yelping at his lubed fingers pressing inside of him. He whined, shutting his eyes in discomfort, his nails scraping against the floor beneath him. “No,” he whispered, shaking his head. That was the one thing. The _one thing_ he couldn’t do. That would be his ultimate defeat, and he wasn’t ready to throw in his towel as of yet. Damien paused, staring at him angrily.  
  
“Then you will feel my cock for the rest of the day, Pup. How’s that?”  
  
Kyle shuddered, gulping down cries as Damien pressed into him harder, pushing his body to a jaunted rhythm. “I won’t,” he bit his lip. “I can’t fucking fight you off, but I just _won’t_ ,” he insisted.  
  
“Fine,” Damien spat, ripping his fingers out and lining himself up behind the boy. Kyle screamed through clenched teeth as he thrust down suddenly into his body. The redhead’s mouth fell open, silent choking sobs escaping past his full, cracked lips. “Then I guess you’re hungrier for Master’s cock than you let on,” he smirked, beginning to thrust into him relentlessly. Kyle merely kept himself up, fighting off his body’s anguish and shutting his eyes to the horror of his situation. He was trapped. He was alone. And he was Damien’s fucking plaything. He sniffled, biting his lip against such angry words wanting to escape. He knew it was useless. For now, he’d just have to pray. He’d have to pray for God to see some kindness and save him.   
  
‘ _I won’t let him win. He will **never** own me_ ,’ he thought furiously. However, even he knew as he lied there, feeling Damien scraping along inside him, that his chances were growing slimmer with every day. For now, he’d just have to accept what was happening, and let Damien use him. He’d have to wait for his miracle.  
  


* * *

  
  
**Present Day - Week 14**  
  
It _had_ to be tested, Damien had decided. He’d watched Kyle from the background throughout his daily life, filled with both anger and astonishment at his progress towards becoming more... _human_. Pieces of his life were beginning to fall back into place for him. Words were still fumbling through, but his vocabulary and willingness to participate were steadily making their return. Peeks of the old boy he’d taken nearly two years before were making short-lived appearances, but they were still there. Damien was growing concerned about the situation, wondering vaguely if he’d get to a point where he would begin to refuse him once again.  
  
He watched from the shadow as Kyle sat upon Damien’s chosen victim. If there was any way to tell if he was becoming himself again, it was sending him to seduce Eric Cartman. If Kyle was still in there, if he was still fighting to make his way out of his master’s hold, then sending him in with his arch enemy would definitely spark _something_ out of him.   
  
He watched with interest as Kyle managed to wake Cartman from his heavy slumber, spouting off his desirous incantation like silken ribbons flowing off his tongue. He couldn’t help but smirk, knowing that Kyle had done this often enough for him that it was becoming like second nature.  
  
“The fuck...” Cartman grumbled, scratching through his brown hair in frustration. “Fuckin’...fuckin’ Jew get-” he stopped, his pupils shrinking as he honed in on Kyle’s glowing form. Damien couldn’t help but notice a twinge of disgust lingering in the redhead’s steady stare.  
  
Kyle took a deep, angry breath, narrowing his eyes at the heavyweight. “Take me, Cartman,” he said in a husky growl. “Make me yours.”  
  
A moment of tense silence passed before a sharp, malicious grin passed over Cartman’s chubby face. “Gladly,” he murmured, lunging off his bed and grabbing Kyle by the throat, throwing him down onto the floor and pinning him down by his neck. Kyle groaned, squirming in the tight hold as Cartman’s amber eyes traced up and down his naked body. “Scrawny Jewrat,” he spat.  
  
“Fat piece of shit!” Kyle shot back. Damien recoiled a bit, his mouth dropping. An insult. Kyle hadn’t worked one of those in in so long...The demon’s eyes pulsed subtly from the shadows, infiltrating what parts of Cartman’s subconscious desires he could. Visions of Kyle submitting, being helpless and held down in fear passed over his mind. Damien blinked confusedly. Cartman lusted for the same Kyle that he’d worked so hard to create. How could Kyle’s anger be sneaking through the cracks?  
  
He stared as Cartman ripped off his clothes, pulling Kyle up and squeezing his neck tighter. The redhead squinted at him, catching his gaze and refusing to back down. A sudden short convulsion racked Kyle’s spine and Damien watched as his determined stance fell victim to a pitiable gaze. The spell won him over; evident by the trembles beginning to shake the boy as he remained held in Cartman’s domineering grasp. “Suck. My. Balls, Kahl,” Cartman grinned, his eyes dancing as he let go of Kyle’s throat and the boy timidly went to do just that. Kyle worked onto his knees as Eric got back onto his feet, reaching his hands up and grasping his cock in one hand, balls in the other. He took a deep, shaking breath and leaned forward, tonguing over his sac with gentle traces of the tip of his muscle. Cartman moaned, thrusting his hips forward impatiently. Kyle took another deep breath, opening his soft lips and taking his sac into his mouth, closing his eyes and slowly suckling on the skin. Damien couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy racing through him, watching his pet becoming someone else’s. But he knew it was worth it in the end, especially if he got the answers he needed.  
  
Kyle slowly and succulently slid Cartman’s balls out of his mouth, moving his tongue down the length of his cock. He propped himself up higher, playing Eric’s head with a slick warmth before engulfing his dick, slowly sliding down the length and looking up at the boy with helpless eyes. Cartman grinned, running his fingers in through Kyle’s hair and pulsing into his mouth. “Stupid Jew hair,” he grunted, weaving his digits in and out of the curls as he worked. Kyle merely stayed still, nothing but an occasional grunt leaving him as Eric continued his thrusting, his eyes still locked in the glutton’s. A part of Damien couldn’t help but beam with pride at his ‘talent’.  
  
Cartman suddenly ripped his cock out of Kyle’s agape mouth, spittle following onto the boy’s chin. He panted a bit, letting out a small cough and wiping it off his face as he continued to look up at the heavyweight towering above him. Cartman kneeled down in front of him, cupping his chin and smirking. “So, Jew, you want me to make you mine, huh?” he asked, re-wrapping around his throat and stroking his chin with a pudgy thumb.  
  
“Yes,” Kyle rasped a bit, digging his nails into the carpet underneath him.  
  
Eric pulled him closer, their noses practically bumping. Deep, chocolate irises stared down into Kyle’s waiting gaze and an evil grin passed his face. “Then you’re going to call me _mein Führer, kleinen Juden_. Damien nearly snorted before his face fell, watching as something in Kyle’s eyes sparked with that anger that he’d grown to love and hate.  
  
“No,” he hissed softly under Cartman’s hold. The brunette paused a bit, shocked at his reluctance before shrugging.  
  
“Fine,” he said curtly before throwing Kyle down onto the floor and violently twisting him onto his knees. “Then your nasty Jew spit is plenty prep don’t you think?” he growled, grabbing between Kyle’s thighs and lowering him, spreading his ass and grinning darkly at his target. Kyle seethed through clenched teeth, looking back at the boy with varying degrees of capitulation and hatred flashing over his face. He cried out and buried his face down into the green carpeting as Cartman held his cock to the puckered skin, slowly sinking down into him. Damien recognized the look overshadowing the brunette’s face in the ink-stained night. That look of victory, of pure thrill at defeating what you worked so hard to overthrow. He had to hold himself back from throwing the boy off of his pet, not wanting to share such a victory with someone so undeserving.  
  
Kyle’s body listlessly fell into Cartman’s harsh rhythm, gritting his teeth and shaking his head like a wild animal. The scraping of Cartman’s barely-slicked cock was burning, Cartman’s occasional spits down towards his ass doing nothing more than disgusting him. He could feel something. Something here was abominably wrong. His knees scraped over the carpet in swift burns, Cartman’s extra weight pushing him down further than he was willing to support. His back locked and his fists clenched angrily as he pushed his hips back against Eric’s thrusts.   
  
Damien watched in wonder, bewildered at Kyle’s reserve. This wasn’t like with Craig. Parts of the boy were still out of his incantation’s hold. Not enough to fight Cartman off, but enough to have a slight suspicion that something here was out of place; that it was something he did not want to be doing. He hadn’t been consumed by the fear that plagued him when he and Tucker had been going at it. Was it Kyle’s natural instinct to fight against Cartman holding him back? Or something else? Damien narrowed his eyes as he continued to observe the abuse of his pet’s body, taking a deep breath. Something wasn’t adding up here.  
  
“Beg for it, Jew,” Cartman suddenly hissed, catching the demon’s attention once again.  
  
Kyle’s face underwent a violent spasm of its own, as though fighting for dominance over his answer. “F-fuck you, Fatass,” he managed to work out. “Just fuck me!” Damien’s jaw dropped further, his brows furrowing as Cartman’s pace began to pick up, Kyle’s pained groans breaking through the still void like crinkling autumn leaves.   
  
“Fuckin’...tight ass...Jew,” Cartman muttered, grabbing Kyle’s hips hard enough to bruise before slamming his red head down onto the ground with a strong palm. “Shit,” he hissed, relishing in Kyle’s aggravated moans muffled through his floor. Kyle’s hand shot up, blindly fumbling to find Cartman’s heaving chest. Damien watched with interest at his mantra spouting from his scowling lips, the pure bead of frustration clearly evident over his smashed-down face. Thin brows furrowed, waiting impatiently and pushing back even harder against his assaulter to bring about his end quicker. He yelped as Cartman suddenly ripped out of him and turned him around, grabbing his face and pinching his jaw between his thumb and first two fingers. The brunette fisted himself, grinning down at Kyle before releasing over his face, splashes dripping down onto his tongue in a salty parade.  
  
Kyle groaned, shaking his head out of Cartman’s hold, watching with dazed eyes as he collapsed onto the ground. The redhead panted, coughing lightly and wiping cum from his face. Damien lurched a bit, feeling the energy from Cartman launching into his soul and sighing satisfactorily. He watched with a raised brow as Kyle’s jerking was much more prominent than his own before the boy stumbled back, leaning on his hands and panting exhaustively. Kyle groaned, turning onto the sides of his legs and fighting his way up.   
  
He stole a last glance at Cartman, glaring a bit before sighing and walking towards his bed. Damien cocked his head confusedly as Kyle grabbed Cartman’s Terrance and Philip comforter, throwing it down over the glutton. “Fatass,” he muttered under his breath, brushing his hair out of his eyes and taking a heavy breath. He stole a glance at Cartman’s clock and bristled. “Shit!” he spat, noticing he only had a few minutes before his revitalization spell would wear off.  
  
“Don’t worry, my pet,” Damien stepped out from his hiding spot.  
  
Kyle whipped his head around, giving him a relieved smile. “Master,” he breathed out tiredly, scratching his hair. “I-it took longer than...than I thought-”  
  
Damien held up his hand to stop him and gave him a bit of a smirk. “No worries. You did your job...” he paused, staring at the boy firmly. Kyle shrank under the look a bit, his eyes flickering around worriedly, wondering what he’d done to displease him. “Little bulldog, it’s been quite some time since I’ve had my own hands on you,” he said plainly, watching Kyle nod subtly in agreement. “I’ll extend your vitality spell a bit, for I believe it’s time to rectify this problem. _Now_ ,” he raised his brows impatiently.  
  
Kyle blinked, stealing a glance at Cartman before dropping to his knees and crawling slowly over to Damien’s feet, obediently beginning to unfasten his jeans. He kept his eyes locked on the demon’s as he worked, tonguing over his lips at Damien’s expectant face. “Please, Master,” he said softly. “I need you to fuck me.”  
  
Damien smiled, pleased with the sincerity still lingering in his tone that he’d trained himself to adapt. His hand gently curled through Kyle’s hair as he began wrapping his lips around his cock, Damien letting out a contented sigh. He still had a hold on him, Kyle was _still_ under his thumb. He just had to figure out how to push him further back down the right path. He watched the bobbing scarlet curls and grinned slyly, “Good boy.”  
  
  
  



	14. Chapter 14

**Present Day - Week 16**  
  
The soft hum of muted daylight rushed over his face and he curled up tiredly down into his pillow. He let out a long sigh, lashes fluttering as he tried to bring himself into the conscious world. Kyle let out a long, sleepy yawn, feeling his aches and pains beginning anew. He slunk tiredly down under his blanket, curling into himself as best he could. He hated waking up anymore. It only meant pain, as it had for so many years. He knew though, he knew the only way he could stave through and get better was to make himself work through it all.  
  
He slowly sat himself up in the bed, letting the covers slide down over his torso and glancing outside. His lips curled up slightly as he saw light snowfall dusting over his window pane. It was such a stark difference, rising from fire to ice, but he reveled in it. Few things anymore made him as calm as seeing snow falling softly to the ground. He couldn’t help but relate, each flake trying to get down as quickly as possible to their destination, wind and other forces pushing them in every direction until they landed where fate led them. He doubted any of them planned on landing where they had, but there was some comfort in that they never fell alone.  
  
He sighed, stretching as best as he could and slowly working his throbbing legs over the side of his mattress. He genially got onto wobbling feet, grabbing his nightstand for support. He winced, the first steps of the day were _always_ the worst. He knew well enough though, once he made it to his closet, the worst part would be over and he could limp around with a bit more stamina. He gradually made his way over towards it, his cane clutched tightly in his hand. Grabbing a pair of jeans and an oversized sweater from his hanger, he took a deep, needed breath. Working himself too fast would result in getting light-headed, and that was the _last_ thing he needed.  
  
He gently worked his pajamas off his form, stripping down to his boxers. He couldn’t help but stare at the mess that was his body, fingers tracing on their own accord over his array of markings. He did this every morning, wondering if they’d ever heal, if he’d ever look like himself again. He poked his ribs, tilting his head a bit as he noticed a bit more meat on his bones. It brought a small, sad smile over his slender face. He glanced down behind him at his calves, the smile dropping at the clear slash marks still prominent on them, raised and ugly just like the rest of Damien’s damage. They still burned with his touch, and he pondered as to why they’d still be so fragile. However, he put it out of his mind, focusing on his task and struggling to redress himself. He’d finally gotten to the point where he didn’t need Ike’s help, though it was no easy task. But he’d felt such guilt as Ike helped him throughout the day, knowing that his little brother had his own life to focus on without worrying about his well being. The puffiness behind the boy’s eyes always broke Kyle’s heart, knowing even through the cloudiness of his mind that it was an expression he _never_ wanted to see on the Canadian’s face.  
  
After a good ten minutes of struggling to work his jeans on, he stole a glance at the calendar hanging on his wall, bought to help him keep track of his various therapies. He cocked his head at the small inscription on the date, his eyes shining at the words ‘Hanukkah Begins’. He bit his lip, running a hand through his hair and searching his brain for the significance of it. He _knew_ it was important, the various flashbacks seeping in front of him screaming it loudly enough. Small glimpses of presents, his family singing, large dinners, candles; all flooding on him like a tidal wave. He nearly lost his breath, grabbing his cane and shaking a bit at the welcomed intrusion of thought. He tongued over his lips and caught his air once again, turning towards his door. It was something that meant the world to his family, he could just tell. Faint reminisces of winters passed flurried about like preverbal snowflakes, each fluttering down on top of his brain in a pure cascade of truths. He found himself smiling fondly, felt a rush of excitement beating away in his chest. He limped towards his door, carefully opening it and hearing his family downstairs in the kitchen talking quietly.  
  
He swallowed a dry breath and smacked his lips, making his way to the stairs and very gently working his way down. Each step felt like knives once again digging into his muscles, but he didn’t care. Each journey down the dreaded steps was another day closer to regaining his control, and he was more than aware of it. He winced, wishing that he could use his revitalization spell all the time, show his family what he once looked like in case they’d forgotten in the time he’d been gone. But he knew better; Damien said it was only for his missions and he took it to heart. He was aware that when Damien told him something so direct, he better damn well follow it.  
  
Finally reaching the landing of the steps, he had to pause, leaning on the railing in utter exhaustion, tears of pain trying to once again drive down his cheeks. But he refused to let them. Every day it was going to get less painful, he _had_ to remember that. When he’d gotten back home, Stan and Kenny practically carried him up and down the stairs, but now he could do it on his own; that was a _huge_ step in the right direction. His physical therapy doctor was helping him rebuild from the atrophy and he knew that it was going to be a long road ahead, but he was more than willing if it meant the pure sympathy in people’s gazes would die down. Something about that irked him, though he could never place what.  
  
Kyle sighed again, leaning back off the railing once the worst had subsided and hobbling his way into the kitchen. Ike caught glimpse of him first, smiling widely and waving a bit. “Hey, Ky,” he greeted.  
  
His parents turned and plastered on bright smiles for him as well. “Good morning, Bubbie,” Sheila said lovingly. She paused, cocking her head at his determined expression. “Sweetie, do you have something on your mind?”  
  
Kyle looked at his family, blinking at them before breaking into a small grin. “Happy Hanukkah,” he said softly and smoothly. They all paused before the smiles on their faces grew wider.  
 Sheila softly clasped her hands over her mouth, her eyes shining with tears. “Bubbeleh, you remembered!” she sniffled. She very slowly worked her way over to him and wrapped him in a gentle embrace, swinging him lightly. “Oh, Honey, you’re so much better than you were,” she cried softly into his shoulder.  
  
“Damn, so does this mean I don’t get Kyle’s presents this year?” Ike teased, winking at his brother.  
  
Gerald gestured for Kyle to take his seat, watching as Sheila helped him on his way before he fell into his chair exhaustedly. He reached over and laid his hand on his son’s arm, pride beaming through his eyes. “Kyle, are you feeling any better today?”  
  
The boy shrugged and cleared his throat, not used to so much adoration coming from his family. He’d grown unfortunately accustomed to their pitiable gazes and pained tears. This was definitely a welcome reprieve. “Sore,” he winced a bit. “But...okay,” he licked over his lips.   
  
Sheila placed a pastry leaking with jelly on a plate in front of him and he stared at it for a moment, narrowing his eyes at it. He knew what this was. She smiled sadly, “Bubbie, it’s a-”  
  
“Shh!” Ike hushed her. “Let him try to remember first.” They all three watched as Kyle scratched at his hair, his eyes boring down into the doughnut in front of him.  
  
He closed his eyes, remembering vague memories of the house filled with the delicious smell it had now. He and Ike racing excitedly down the stairs to get to the kitchen every morning of Hanukkah. That first bite, oozing with jelly and staining their faces with powdered sugar. It had been their tradition, his and Ike’s, to see who could stuff the most in their mouths. He remembered that tradition dying with Ike winning when he shoved two into his mouth, Kyle having to give him the heimlich when the idiot tried to swallow them both at once. He opened them again and smiled, “Sufganiyot,” he whispered.  
  
“See?” Ike smiled, patting Kyle’s arm. “He can figure this shit out on his own. We just have to give him a few minutes.”  
  
Sheila sat down in her seat, handing Kyle a mug of coffee and letting her smile falter a bit. “Kyle, are you allowed to eat?” she asked softly, feeling that motherly rage percolating inside of her at having to even ask that question but refusing to let it show to her fragile little boy. He looked at her and nodded a bit, more than glad that Damien had allowed him more of a reprieve. He raised his brow a bit, remembering that he’d specifically cited that he could eat for eight more days the night before. Apparently he was more aware of what his family would be doing than Kyle himself was. He sighed contentedly, taking a slow bite of his sufganiyot and shuddering at the explosion of flavor and the influx of warm memories flooding back to him.  
  
He swallowed down his bite and looked up to see his family watching him with those oh-so-happy faces. He grinned back and nodded, “Thanks...Ma,” he breathed out. He narrowed his brows a bit and they all fell into those sympathetic glances he hated so much.  
 “What’s wrong, Kyle?” Gerald asked quietly.  
  
“Did you want a different flavor?” Sheila asked worriedly. “Strawberry was always your favorite but I have othe-” she stopped as Kyle weakly waved a dismissive hand.  
 He looked at his parents, eyes shining as he tried to piece together what he so desperately needed to say. “I want...to talk...” he started.   
  
“About what?” Ike asked, his mouth full of pastry.  
  
He shook his head and groaned. “No...” he looked up, frustration building in his features. He gestured his hand to himself. “I want to...talk...better,” he finally spat out. “Help me?” he asked desperately. Losing his communication skills was always wearing on him, he knew he needed to get back to a point where he could speak in full sentences again, but he had no idea how to get there.  
  
Sheila and Gerald shared a glance, both of them smiling at each other and looking at Kyle in delight. “Bubbie,” Sheila started, getting his attention on her. “We’ll find you a good speech therapist,” she promised. “We didn’t want to overload you with doctors so soon, that’s the only reason we hadn’t yet. I’m so proud of you, Honey. You’re working so hard to get better.”  
  
“Yeah,” Ike nodded. “Soon you’ll be back to your bitchy, lectury self and all will be right with the world,” he winked.  
  
Kyle’s face suddenly broke into a smirk they hadn’t seen in so long and they watched in wonder as a soft, teasing “Fuck you,” worked its way through his lips. Gerald couldn’t help but bust out laughing. Sheila pouted, but soon enough found herself joining. The reprimanding for their language could come much later down the line. Hearing some of their son poking back through was just too good to ruin the moment with a lecture. Ike and Kyle couldn’t help but join them, the four of them united in something they hadn’t had in far too long. Kyle felt an airiness about him, a complete wave of comforts surrounding him that he needed so desperately to be reminded of now and again. Between the rabbi, Kenny, and the three sitting around the table lost in their family moment, he could feel his reality slowly but surely settling around him.  
  


* * *

  
  
**Day ---**  
  
He was drowning. His body was flailing uselessly in a sea of cotton and loss. The world was dark around him, stifling with its eerie silence and heavy, musty air. He twisted and turned in panic, feeling the darkness closing in around him. It was ending. Strangely enough, he found himself letting out a relieved breath, more than welcome for himself to be whisked away into this sea of night. With a blinding start he awoke, his arms and legs thrashing about. He felt himself tangled and dread began to rack through him. He was tied up again. Something bad was about to happen! He whimpered, creaking his eyes open and nearly going blind at the intrusion of white on his eyes. He groaned, shaking his throbbing head and forcing himself to regain his bearings and figure out what he was up against. He took a shuddery breath, working his eyes back up and squinting in disorientation at the sight above him. Slowly, his eyes regained focus and he found himself staring at the familiar sight of his ceiling.   
  
His jaw dropped, his body kicking into action. He quickly threw sheets tangled around him off, hopping to his feet, finding himself dressed in his basketball shorts. He nearly screamed in shock when there was no pain. A quick glance up and down his body showed nothing. Absolutely _nothing_. No pain, no scars, no bites, no burns, no nothing. He ran his fingers through his hair, his breathing becoming erratic. “What the fuck?!” he whimpered, feeling around his face and trying to make sense of what was happening. He glanced around his room, everything like he’d never left it. He touched his basketball up on his shelf, narrowing his sight. Did he ever put it away?  
  
A knock came at his door and he turned towards it in fright at the suddenness, cautiously making his way over towards it with widened eyes. He gulped, opening the door to find his mother standing in front of him with a smile. “Good morning, Bubbie,” she greeted, pushing past him and walking over to his closet, grabbing dirty laundry out of his hamper. He stared at her in shock as she so nonchalantly meandered about. Did she forget how long he was gone?! “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Kyle,” she said as she sorted through his clothes.   
  
“B-better?” he stammered.  
  
She paused and looked at him, laughing a tad in disbelief. “Sweetie, you’ve been sleeping the past four days! We’d try to wake you up and you’d just be thrashing around screaming for us not to touch you!” he blinked and she shrugged, walking up and placing a hand on his arm. “We called the doctor and he told us to just let you sleep it off, it was probably exhaustion from working so hard, that’s all,” she reassured him. “Now come on, get dressed. Stanley and Kenneth are waiting downstairs for you.” She leaned him down and kissed his cheek, walking out and closing the door on her son’s pure shock.  
  
He stumbled back, looking around the room again and gulping. A dream. That was a fucking _dream_? He ran his hands over his chest and arms, feeling the back of his calves in pure confusion. “What the fuck!” he repeated, shuddering. He let out a small sob of relief, staring into the mirror at himself. His skin had its glow back about it, he was still way too fucking skinny for his own tastes, but it was _healthy_. He was home. He could feel the air conditioning billowing through his room, feel the fibers of carpeting beneath his feet, smell his mother’s cooking wafting through the air. He was _home_.  
  
He broke into a grin, using his once-again athletic body and running to his dresser, whipping out clothes as he slid out of his shorts and practically jumping to get a full-fledged outfit on. Clothes were just a luxury he didn’t think he’d had in so long. The fabric caressing his skin nearly made him sing with pleasure, but that could come later. Stan and Kenny came first. He slipped on his slippers hidden tucked away under his dresser as they always had been, darting out the door and bounding down the steps.   
  
Stan and Kenny looked at him with amused smirks from the living room. “Where’s the fire, Dude?” Kenny laughed as Kyle ran up to them, his eyes nearly brimming with grateful tears. The blonde pulled one of his curls and smirked, “Maybe you should brush your hair. You look like a fucking troll doll.”  
  
Stan cocked his head, “Dude, what the hell’s wrong with you?  
  
He reached forward and grabbed both of their arms, his cheeks aching from smiling so hard. “I-I had...the worst dream...in the fucking world,” he laughed breathlessly. Kyle could feel the warmth coming from their skin, grating his lip in pure, brimming excitement. They were here. They were here in front of him and he could _touch_ them again. It was almost too good to be true. His two best friends in the world, the two people who would never let _anything_ bad happen to him. They were just what he needed right now. He paused, looking up at Kenny skeptically. “Do...do you know Damien by chance?” he narrowed his eyes.  
  
Ken blinked, shaking his head. “Bro, I have _no_ idea who you’re talking about.”  
  
“The antichrist?” he prompted, beginning to tremble and finally letting go of their arms. The two standing in front of him looked at each other in concern, grabbing Kyle’s shoulders and leading him over to the couch, sitting down on either side of him.  
  
“Kyle?” Stan shook him a bit. “Dude, what the fuck happened in this dream? You’re shaking, Man.”  
  
“I-I was kidnapped by the fucking son of the Devil,” he blinked. “A-and he was...torturing me and I was completely scarred over and...a-and Satan couldn’t help me escape...” he stopped for a moment, putting his hand on his temple. It was throbbing painfully under his palm, his vision blurring out for a moment as his head fuzzily picked out details.  
  
Stan and Kenny looked at each other and blinked. “Uh,” Kenny started. “Yeah I don’t know the antichrist, Ky.”  
  
He looked at him and took a deep breath, “He said you did. You kept telling him stories about me and that’s why he kidnapped me.”  
  
Kenny laughed a little, the confusion still over his face. “It was just a dream, Dude. I mean if you _want_ me to tell stories about you to people, I’d be more than happy to, but I don’t think the devil will be a willing audience member.”  
  
Kyle chuckled softly, running his hand through his ragged hair and taking a shuddery breath. “I think I’d prefer it if you didn’t tell anyone stories about me _ever_.” he laughed. He calmed down and leaned back, his hand coming up to his neck, stroking over the skin free of bite marks and his collar. “It felt so _real_ ,” he whispered. “You guys gave up trying to save me and I was...so fucking _alone_. It was horrible.”  
  
“You pansy,” Stan teased, flicking his arm lightly. “I promise, if you get kidnapped by the son of the devil, we won’t give up trying to save you if it makes you feel better,” he rolled his eyes in good humor.  
  
He looked at his best friend and smirked, “I’d prefer it if you’d just prevent me from getting kidnapped altogether, but I’ll take what I can get.” He leaned back forward and placed his head in his hands, shaking it lightly. “I can’t believe my brain would betray me like that,” he sighed.  
  
Kenny’s hand came up and patted his head, and he couldn’t help but flinch slightly at the touch. “Well your brain probably got as big as it could and decided to let out some steam,” the blonde shrugged. “Stop being such a fucking nerd and kill it with some TV.” Kyle looked up at him, feeling that warm feeling he always got when near Ken and couldn’t help but smile at him. It was so real. His emotions were flowing back to him steadily as a river. The fears were gone, the agony had finally ceased. He felt like a million bucks, like he could swim the English Channel and go back for another dive. It was absolutely incredible.  
  
“Boys, come get lunch!” Gerald’s voice called towards them. They all got to their feet, Kyle beyond elated at the prospect of a home cooked meal. He practically danced into the kitchen, Stan and Kenny watching him and making fun of him quietly behind him. A delicious smell slammed into Kyle and he salivated a bit, seeing his mom’s brisket sandwiches made up and ready to be devoured. The three of them sat down with his parents at the table, all of them watching amusedly as Kyle grabbed his sandwich and sank his teeth right in.  
  
‘ _Take that, you fucking bastard. No one tells me when to fucking eat_ ,’ he thought to himself with a snide smile, the meat melting into his mouth and making him shiver. He closed his eyes, hearing Stan and Kenny thanking his mom and the sounds of everyone else eating. He was completely lost in the tranquility of the moment, vaguely wondering how long everything would feel like such a blessing. He didn’t care, he wanted this feeling to last. Everything was pure bliss, never before had he felt so thankful to wake up in his same boring house with his same crazy family and same asshole friends. Everything was absolutely perfect.  
  
He opened his eyes again, taking another bite and glancing around the kitchen, cocking his head slightly and swallowing down his sandwich. “Is Ike at Filmore’s or somethin’?” he asked casually, taking another mouthful.  
  
The four of them looked at each other confusedly before glancing back at the redhead. “Ike?” Stan repeated.  
  
He laughed a bit. “Yeah, Ike. Where is he?”  
  
Sheila raised her brow, “Is he one of your friends, Bubbie?”  
  
He paused, putting his sandwich down and looking around at the four of their lost expressions. “Ike.” He repeated. “You know? Almost 13? About my height? Black hair, brown eyes? Has the same smartassed mouth I do?” he teased before his face fell a bit, their expressions still dazed at his words. He narrowed his eyes and blinked. “Issac Broflovski? My brother?!” he finally shouted.  
  
He watched in shock as a dark shadow overcast their faces, his mother getting to her feet and walking over towards the counter. “Bubbie, you don’t have a brother, you must have imagined it while you were sleeping,” she said smoothly.  
 “What?” he whispered, getting up to his feet, his chair scraping against the tiled floor. “Y-yeah I do! Did something happen to him while I was sleeping?!” he asked in panic. “Is Ike okay?!”  
  
Kenny grabbed his arm, “Dude, there never _was_ an Ike.”  
  
He ripped his limb out of the boy’s grasp, kicking his chair out of the way and backing away from the four of them. His temple began to throb again and he hissed, his eyes blurring again. “Tell me where he is!” he demanded, wincing at the volume of his own voice on his aching head. The three at the table stared at each other in bewilderment, Sheila’s eyes flickering over to her son.  
  
“Bubbie, come here,” she cooed. “I should take your temperature, you’re not making sense.”  
  
He shook his head, slowly backing away from them into the living room. He made his way to the front door, his hand slowly working the knob. He bit his lip as it wouldn’t budge, trying to unlock it but making no leeway. His breath hitched as Sheila came towards him, her comforting smile tinged with a hint of malice. He jumped away from the door, stepping backwards through the living room. He glanced up above the television, seeing their family portrait minus one Canadian. “What the hell,” he blinked.  
  
“Should’ve just enjoyed what you had, Pup,” Sheila’s voice became low and grating. Kyle froze at the term, looking down shakily at the woman and seeing that damnable dagger clutched in her hand.  
  
“No...” he whispered brokenly, trying to back away. His legs hit the coffee table and he stumbled back onto the floor, staring up at his mother hovering over him. She kneeled beside him, her familiar hands stroking comfortingly through his hair, her expression far more devious than Kyle knew it was capable of. His jaw trembled as the dagger caught the artificial light, gleaming in his eye. Sheila’s hand shoved him down onto his back and he watched in horror as she raised her weapon. “Mom...Mom, don’t...” he croaked, a tear sliding down his cheek, his body frozen in terror.  
  
“Doggies don’t ask so many questions,” she echoed before plunging the dagger down into Kyle’s chest.  
  
He lurched up with a horrified start, his eyes shooting open to an all-too-familiar red-ladened darkness. He collapsed back against the stone floor with a loud thud, groaning in pain and feeling his heart aching with its rapid-fire beating. He let out broken gasps, feeling the weight of the chains around his wrists once again, the burning of his scars rushing back to him, the rawness under his collar beginning to once again chafe. “No...no...” he rasped, every bit of warmth swept out from under him like a rug, every ounce of pure joy faded in an instant. He let out a soft cry as Damien appeared above him, smirking on his ruptured body smugly.  
  
“Didn’t know you had an adopted brother,” he shrugged. “Went by blood. My mistake, Pup.”  
  
“Y-you...you bast...” he tried before convulsing in sobs. It was there. It had been right _there_. He was home. He had been _free_ and with the people he loved. His chest was aching with the pure drop of emotion, the imaginary taste of his mother’s brisket turned sour. He couldn’t believe it. He fell for it. He fell for a fucking ‘it was all a dream’ bullshit excuse. He always thought himself smarter than that, not able to fall for such petty tricks. But he wanted it so badly. He wanted so badly for this to just be a nightmare, for him to wake up in a hospital and be told he’s been in a coma for months. That’s all he wanted was to feel that elation again. Now...now he knew better. He curled up on his side, hiding his face against his arms and letting out long sobs, unable to get his ‘mother’s’ face before stabbing him out of his mind.  
  
Damien knelt beside him, running a hand through his matted curls and gently untangling them with his fingers. “There, there, Pup,” he cooed, smiling devilishly. “Now you know.” he grasped under Kyle’s chin, forcing his head up to stare at him. Kyle tried to force himself back under control, unable to in his devastated state. Damien smiled. He had him. Simple mind games were child’s play. Showing Kyle his friends ‘giving up on him’, letting him think he was back and safe at home before ripping it away; all _far_ too easy. Strong-willed or not, any mortal easily fell into the traps of familiarity turning its back on them. It was almost a disappointment, but the look on Kyle’s face was more than worth taking such a huge leap towards his end. “Now you know,” he continued, scraping his thumb along Kyle’s cheek, watching the tears flowing from shimmering green eyes hungrily. “I’m the only truth that you have,” he grinned. “I’m the only reality that you can trust. Because regardless of where you wake up...” he leaned down in front of his face, Kyle’s horrified expression doing nothing more than making him ache in lust. “ _I_ will always be the only thing you can truly look forward to.”  
  
Kyle’s breath became shallow and panicked, eyes darting about before Damien shook his attention back to his own eyes. He didn’t want Kyle to look away. Not when so close to his edge. Not when he could hear Kyle’s world shattering around him. “Fuck. You,” Kyle hiccuped out. Damien smirked and rolled his eyes, slapping Kyle a bit for his tongue.   
  
“You know so much better than that, my Kyle,” he purred.   
  
Kyle’s shackled arm slowly came up, grabbing Damien’s wrist as he vehemently attempted to control his sobbing. “Let me die,” he begged. “Just...let me fucking _die_.”  
  
He paused before chuckling and shaking his head, grasping Kyle’s chin and pulling him up further towards his face. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t,” he said smoothly. “But trust me, I am _far_ from wanting to let you go. Not when you’re so _close_ to realizing your true place with me.” He waited for Kyle’s typical angry response, practically twittering when he didn’t get one. Only a weak glare could manage to escape Kyle’s face before he slumped exhaustedly, his mind overran with the Hell he’d just been submitted through. Damien smiled, dropping him down onto the floor and waving his hand, letting his puddle of water and pile of food appear a few feet in front of him. He turned and began walking out, calling back, “You may eat while I’m gone.”  
  
Kyle listened to the closing of his iron cage, staring at the piles in front of him. He sniffled, turning away from them and curling into himself, feeling the undeniable truth deep in what was left of his dwindling soul: He was going to lose. He was going to break.  
  
 **Day 490**  
  
  



	15. Chapter 15

**Present Day - Week 17**  
  
Standing in the familiar bedroom staring at the blonde beneath him, Kyle couldn’t help but want to run. Damien’s orders had been concise enough: Go after Kenny. But watching him curled up on his worn mattress, a contented smile over his face, Kyle wanted nothing more than to just curl up beside him and sleep through this nightmare. He still had no idea what it was he was even doing on these expeditions of his, just knowing that Damien expected it to be done. He sighed, running his hand through his hair and glancing around at his caused darkness, Kenny’s blonde hair stained black in the night. Kyle bit his lip, leaning down and softly muttering his dreamy haze incantation. He watched as Kenny absorbed it like a mist, body squirming a bit and soft groans escaping his lips.  
  
“Ken,” he whispered, lightly stroking his fingers up the side of his face.  
  
Blue eyes fluttered open and squared onto Kyle’s. A small smile broke over his face and he laughed in short, breathy huffs. “Ky,” he whispered in a way that made the redhead shiver. Kenny’s hand came up, cupping Kyle’s cheek. He leaned into the warm touch, heart fluttering and relief settling over his renewed body. “A dream?” Ken asked, his brows narrowing confusedly.  
  
Kyle nodded, turning and kissing Kenny’s hand softly. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s just a dream.”  
  
He chuckled again, struggling to sit himself up and staring at the naked boy with a bit of a raised brow. “Been a long time since I dreamed of you naked,” he snorted, running his fingers through his hair, trying to shake off his daze.  
  
Kyle couldn’t help but feel his lips tug into a smirk, “You used to dream about me naked?” he whispered.  
  
“Alllllll the time,” he gave a lazy wink before a frown took over his sleepy face. “But then Damien took you and...and all I could dream about was getting you out,” he croaked with emotion. Kyle blinked, face falling guiltily. He couldn’t imagine being on the other end. Knowing that someone was out there that you wanted so desperately to save...Though a part of him couldn’t help but wish he _had_ been in that position. The alternative was certainly no walk in the park.  
  
He slowly sat down next to Kenny, bringing his hand up and cupping his face back. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He paused, sighing a bit and nuzzling again into Kenny’s hand, the blonde’s thumb lovingly stroking his cheek. “I know you wanted to save me,” he said, his mind trying to flash him back to what Damien had shown him. Watching Stan, Kenny, and Cartman admitting defeat and giving up their search for him. Leaving him to suffer in the demon’s hands...One look at Kenny’s still devastated face screamed the truth: His master had _lied_. Kenny never would have stopped searching for him. Not this boy. Not the one who was always so kind to him, always had his back when things got a little too rough for Kyle to handle in the past. He took a shuddery breath, feeling a part of him inside opening anew with the veracity before him. He looked back into Kenny’s shining eyes and smiled. “Thank you,” he whispered.  
  
Kenny stumbled a bit, trying to scoot closer to the redhead. “No...don’t thank me...” he wavered a bit and Kyle watched in wonder. He hadn’t kept anyone in this portion of his spell for such a long time. His eyes flashed with realization. He had to get this moving.  
  
He gently raised Kenny’s chin to stare up at him, quietly muttering “ _Indica mihi etiam cupiditates mecum_.” Kenny’s brow raised and Kyle waited patiently for the incantation to take hold. A good few moments passed and the redhead blinked in confusion. What the living fuck? Why wasn’t it working?! He repeated it a bit more forcefully, eyes narrowing as he tried delving into Kenny’s subconscious, tried bringing out the lust hiding within him.  
  
“Ky...” Ken breathed, shaking his head a bit. “W-what does that mean?”  
  
“I-I...” he froze, beyond baffled. “I-it means...” he tongued over his lips, trying to think his way out of this predicament. “It means I...want you to fuck me,” he breathed out, giving him as seductive of a tone as he could manage.  
  
Kenny blinked, breaking into a wide, goofy grin. Kyle smiled back until Ken started shaking his head. “No,” he said softly, running his fingers over Kyle’s cleaned skin. “I want...the real Kyle,” he muttered, half-lidded eyes taking in Kyle’s glowing, pure body.   
  
Kyle blushed, his heart speeding in his chest. “I-I am the real Kyle,” he said shakily.  
  
Once again Kenny shook his head. “No,” he murmured, bringing the boy closer to him and sitting up straight, leaning his forehead against his. “You’re the...old Kyle...” he sighed. “I want you back...when new Kyle finds you...again,” he breathed out tiredly, kissing his forehead tenderly.  
  
Kyle felt tears springing to his eyes, backing up and looking at Kenny’s handsome face in the shadows of the night. Trembling, he let a hand come up to recapture Kenny’s cheek, feeling a burst of happiness he didn’t know he could harbor anymore. “Why?” he whispered. “New Kyle...is broken,” he gulped, eyes falling in shame.  
  
“No,” he said firmly, moving down and kissing his temple. “New Kyle is...wounded,” he sniffled. “But you’re too strong...to lose,” he whispered, moving his head into the crook of Kyle’s neck and nuzzling down into the skin. He could feel Kyle’s rapid pulse, the heat beaming off his face and he smiled contentedly. This was the Kyle he remembered. Blushing and getting worked up over every ‘teasingly’ flirtatious thing he uttered. He missed it. He missed this Kyle beyond anything, but the one that was scarred and terrified, the one that he believed to be at home, sleeping dreamless sleeps...that was the one he needed to be with. Not the memory.  
  
He shook himself as Kyle’s hands came and cupped his face, staring at him with glistening eyes. He shook his head lightly and bit his lip. “Kenny...” he started, his voice cracking a bit. “Why me? Why are you still wanting... _new_ Kyle?”  
  
He paused, cocking his head and shrugging sheepishly. Kyle could feel him blushing and watched curiously as he cleared his throat. “I-I know it’s a dream or whatever...but...this is awkward,” he laughed humorlessly. He looked everywhere but Kyle’s eyes and mumbled, “I kinda...love you?” he winced.  
  
Kyle stopped dead in his tracks, his jaw dropping slowly. “L-love me?” he repeated. A burst of elation ran through him, his body shaking at the admittance. Kenny _loved_ him?  
  
He nodded embarrassedly, finally meeting his gaze once again. “Yeah. For _years_ ,” he groaned leaning his head back a bit. “Like...since we were like...fifteen?” he looked up thoughtfully before nodding to himself, mumbling confirmations. The redhead stared at him in shock. Since they were _fifteen_. Kenny loved him before he was kidnapped, and he kept the feelings all throughout the whole ordeal. He didn’t give up hope for him, he never let go of his feelings. The boy in his hands _loved_ him, wanted him despite how broken he’d become, how he was still at Damien’s beck and call. He wanted him regardless of how damaged he was. Kenny looked back at him, his face falling concernedly. A hand came up and stroked Kyle’s cheek. “Why are you crying?” he whispered worriedly.  
  
Kyle reached up and touched his own face, bringing his hand back and staring at the moistness of his fingertips. He didn’t even realize there were any tears. He was too focused on the influx of emotion trying to ravage through his body. Happiness and warmth trying to beat away whatever Damien’s incantations laid upon him. The voice screaming at him to serve his master was being pushed back, Kyle’s entire focus residing on the dazed blonde in front of him. Scattered memories of the two of them flew back in his newfound state as his mind was made clearer. So many times they’d been together laughing, teasing, caring. His heart was overflowing with feelings, a flittering in his stomach bringing it home as he jolted in realization. He smiled widely, brushing Kenny’s bangs back from his forehead and staring into those light blue eyes that kept him going while being a prisoner. The eyes that had consistently told him ‘I’m here if you need me’. And Kyle knew, he needed him desperately. Nothing else mattered to him in that moment; Damien’s mission for him pressed down into the furthest confines of his mind. No fears, no anxieties. Just himself and Kenny. _Just_ what he needed.  
  
“I love you, too,” he whispered, shocked a bit at the words rolling off his tongue so fluidly one would think he’d been saying it to the blonde all his life. Kenny’s face broke into such a wide smile that Kyle nearly feared his face would rip in half before the boy pushed forward, sinking their lips against one another.  
  
Kyle moaned softly, stroking his thumbs along Kenny’s cheekbones, relishing in the taste of cinnamon and cigarettes that seemed to linger on him at all times. This wasn’t like their experimental kiss in the synagogue. This was the one Kyle had been dreaming of for years of his own. He could feel Kenny’s hands cautiously exploring his body, running over his hips and up his waist. Soft fingers grasped around his skin lightly, a tongue slid out and pushed Kyle’s lips. He compliantly opened for him, letting their tongues sweep across each other in a moment of pure bliss. Their breath was hot and heavy against one another, skin becoming moist as they fought to keep the moment going. Kyle found his hands entwining in Kenny’s messy hair, rubbing the blonde locks between his fingers. Ken’s arms wrapped around his back, pulling him in closer. Kyle cautiously moved over, straddling the boy’s lap, never letting their lips break contact. His arms threaded around Kenny’s shoulders and neck, their noses bumping against each other and their mouths soaked and swollen.  
  
Kenny finally pulled them apart a bit unwillingly, squeezing the boy and shaking his head again. “Not you,” he whispered, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.  
  
Kyle was torn between sinking miserably and waltzing out the door in song at the words. He bit his lip. He knew exactly what would happen when he lost his vitality spell: He would pass out, wake up, and only remember bits and pieces. Kenny himself wouldn’t remember _anything_. He _couldn’t_ lose this. He couldn’t. “Kenny,” he said urgently, tilting his head back up in his hands. He searched the half-lidded blues desperately, wondering if he could beam the truth into him somehow. “Ken,” his voice cracked a bit. The blonde’s head tilted at his tone and he cleared his throat. “Kenny, real Kyle wants you, too,” he insisted. “Y-you...you have to tell him when you wake up. You _have_ to.”  
  
He chuckled softly, “You’re just...sayin’ that ‘cause I want ya to...” he trailed off with a frown.  
  
He shook his head. “No. Real Kyle kissed you, didn’t he? Real Kyle wants this. But he needs _you_ to remember this moment because he can’t,” he teared up a bit.   
  
Kenny blinked at him before looking up thoughtfully. “What if...I don’t remember? I don’t remember...dreams very often...” Kyle bit his lip, trying himself to figure out just what he could do before Kenny jolted a bit in realization. “Oh! I-I know!” he gently pushed Kyle off, stumbling out of his bed and bending down to his nightstand. Kyle watched curiously, his eyes widening as Kenny pulled out a long hunting knife from his drawer.  
  
“K-Ken?” he shook, the blade stunning him into place, He was once again being filled with that familiar dread, with horrid flashbacks of the damage that the metal could do. “D-don’t...please don’t hurt me...” he breathed, backing up against the wall.  
  
Ken cocked his brow. “You? No, I’d never...hurt you, Ky,” he shook his head. “You die in a dream...you die in real life, right?” Kyle just blinked, lost as to his meaning. Ken grinned, “It’s happened before, so I bet...it’ll happen this time. So I’ll die and see you tomorrow.”  
  
“W-what?” he blinked. “Die? Ken...what are you-” he stopped, his eyes bursting wide open as Kenny swiftly raised his blade, holding it against his throat and effortlessly slicing through the tender skin of his neck. “KENNY!” Kyle screeched in panic as the blonde crumpled to the floor in a bloodied heap. He leaped off the mattress down beside him, feeling Kenny’s blood staining his legs. He grabbed under his back, watching in terror as the blonde choked, blue eyes bulging. Kyle started to hyperventilate, trying to place his hands on the wound to stop the bloodflow. He didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t think! Ken weakly pushed his hands off, giving him another smile, lips and teeth stained with dark blood splatter before those icy orbs slipped closed, body slumping against the redhead’s wet thighs. Kyle’s mouth hung open, his jaw trembling. “Kenny?” he whispered, his voice cracking as he tried to shake him awake. “Kenny, no!” he begged through heavy sobs. “Come back!”  
  
“Just so you can continue to ‘love’ him, my pet?” that resentful voice broke through the small room.  
  
Kyle froze, the tears stopping instantly, recognizing that tone anywhere. He was in trouble. He was in a _lot_ of trouble. He turned his head, still clutching Kenny’s corpse in desperation. “M-master...I-I.” he yelped as he was suddenly pulled by that invisible force he hated so much away from Kenny, slamming down at Damien’s feet. He gulped, looking up to see Damien’s eyes sparking with pure unadulterated anger.  
  
“You _disobeyed_ me, Pup,” he growled.  
  
“Master I...” he scrambled onto his knees, biting his lip nervously. “T-the spell...it didn’t...work on him,” he stammered out.  
  
“Ah, so you didn’t think to call _me_?” he questioned, brows furrowing. “No. You decided that you wanted to admit feelings for that piece of shit instead? Funny, Pup. Who is it you belong to, again?”  
  
“You, Master,” he whimpered, face flushing over and heart beating out of control, and not in the wonderful way that Kenny had made him feel just moments before. He screeched through pained tears as Damien’s hand grabbed through his curls and ripped him up onto his feet, his knees buckling. Damien stared at him, his face twisted in fury but his chest whirling in worry. Kyle was beating down his hold. Going after Kenny was supposed to break him further, not make him stronger. The guilt should have shoved Kyle back into the place he belonged, not made him realize his long-buried feelings for the corpse on the floor. He stared at Kenny angrily. This was his fault. He opened the door for Damien to take his prize, and now he was trying to steal it back and lock him out once more. He’d have to tell his father to keep him a while longer than usual. Hopefully the blonde would forget everything as he was supposed to. As for Kyle, he’d _make_ him forget.  
  
He growled, shoving Kyle back down onto his back, watching those green eyes alit with the fear he so loved. He bit his forked tongue lightly. “Crawl to McCormick.” he ordered. Kyle blinked before nodding and compliantly doing as told, shakily stopping in front of the fallen boy. He sniffled lightly, staring at Kenny’s angelic face lit by the moon. He glowed in a way that Kyle had never seen. It was beautiful, and it was heart-wrenching. He let out a startled cry as Damien knelt down beside him, slamming his cheek down onto the floor in a puddle of Kenny’s blood, making him stare right into Ken’s still face. He felt tears leaking from his eyes, struggling to contain himself. Damien watched his reaction, feeling that rage rising to new heights. Kyle was going to suffer for such disloyalty, he could _guarantee_ it. “I’m going to fuck you, Pup,” he growled, moving behind him and holding his head still, free hand ripping apart his jeans and fondling his hardening cock. “And you’re going to stare at him the whole time. You’re going to tell him over and over how you want _my_ cock over his. Do you understand me?”  
  
Kyle sniffled, nodding briskly. A quick press down on his head made him squeal, “Yes, Master!”  
  
“No one gets you but _me_ ,” he snarled, spitting on his dick before plunging straight into Kyle’s unprepared form. He listened to his raspy screech, watching his fingers clawing at the carpet desperately. He grunted, forcing himself to go faster, harder into the growing contumacious form. “Tell him, Pup!” he demanded.  
  
“I-I want my master’s cock...a-ah! N-not yours,” he whimpered, tears trailing down as he kept on staring at Kenny’s bloodied face. He could feel the copper fluid sticking against his cheek, trailing down his body. It coated his thighs in a sticky solution that he could feel stretching on his skin with every thrust Damien gave him.  
  
“That’s right,” he muttered, continuing his assault. “Again!” he slapped his ass as strongly as he could muster, listening to Kyle sobbing out his words once more, the redhead’s back tensed and his knees scraping open against the harsh friction. Damien couldn’t stop. He _wouldn’t_ stop. His pet had to be reminded. He had to be pushed to his limits yet again. It had become painfully obvious as he watched the redhead giving himself emotionally to the blonde without hesitation: Kyle was starting to slip through his fingers like fine sand. He had to stop it before his half of the hourglass became barren, and he would find himself unable to reset their clock.  
  


* * *

  
  
**Day 501**  
  
“ _I’m not a dog. I’m not a dog..._ ” he whispered to himself as he had for the last few hours, rocking back and forth atop his knees. He let out a long, shuddery breath, his arms crossed tightly, hands grasping his muscles nearly tight enough to bruise. Something was happening. His body was getting even weaker, a constant nausea was building inside him. His chest was nearly on fire at all times, he couldn’t make heads or tails of it. It wasn’t fear, it wasn’t anger, it wasn’t _anything_ that he could put a pin in. Something was going horribly wrong, and he didn’t know how to even begin to prepare to fight against it.  
  
“We’ll get that mantra changed soon enough, little one,” Damien’s voice cooed from behind him.  
  
Kyle gritted his teeth, curling deeper into himself and letting his head hang down loosely from his neck. “Just get out,” he hissed. “Just _leave me alone_.”  
  
“I think not. Now you know what to do when I come into your room, Pup. I suggest you do it quickly.”  
  
Kyle bristled, his body trembling with such palpable helplessness to his situation he didn’t know what to do with himself. He groaned, pivoting on his legs and sluggishly crawling over to Damien. He stared at the ground, his eyes burning and his entire body just beyond exhausted. He was running out of energy. Talking was taking too much effort at this point. He was beside himself. He came to a stop at Damien’s legs, plopping back down on the sides of his thighs and taking a deep breath to prepare himself for his next step. Muted green eyes rose up to meet the glitter of fire in Damien’s stare and he kept his face a stoney line. “What?” he grumbled.  
  
Damien’s lips tugged in a smirk. “Such bad manners my pup has,” he raised his brow. “I believe it’s time for another lesson, wouldn’t you say?”  
  
He let out a long, angry breath, eyes drooping. It wasn’t as if he had any say in the matter. “Whatever.” He hissed as Damien’s hand slammed into his cheek. He flew back onto the floor, cupping his face and clenching his jaw as he tried to fight through the pain. He glanced back up to see Damien glaring at him and he settled himself, struggling back onto his knees. “Sorry.”  
  
“Sorry...?”  
  
“Master. Sorry, Master,” he sighed tiredly.  
  
He chuckled, reaching down and petting through Kyle’s hair. The redhead just stared at the demon’s legs, unable to find that spark of anger that usually arose when he was being petted. It worried him. ‘ _You’re just tired_ ,’ he assured himself. ‘ _The trick with home just made you tired. You’ll push through it and slam his face into the ground..._ ’ his thought trailed off and his body slackened a bit. He wasn’t so sure if there was any truth in that idea anymore. He couldn’t so much as form a coherent picture of attacking Damien anymore, let alone actually go through with it. What was happening?  
  
Damien, however, was nearly giddy. Kyle’s temper was nearly gone, his voice hollow and deadpan in the acoustics of his prison. He wasn’t completely out of his element yet, but he was damn near teetering. “So,” he said lightly, tousling a curl around his finger. “I’ll give a choice, my pet: Either a speaking lesson or a behavior lesson. Which will it be?”  
  
Kyle took a deep breath through his nose, his mind scanning listlessly over the options before him. Speaking lessons lasted a hell of a lot longer, but his behavior lessons usually resulted in him getting hurt pretty violently. Playing Damien’s word games usually at the most got him a smack every once in awhile, but that was the extent. “Word lesson, please, Master,” he said softly.  
  
Damien grinned, petting him more thoroughly as reward. “Now, this one will be a tad different than usual.” Kyle shut his eyes, forcing himself to breathe evenly. He couldn’t handle a switch in routine. He just couldn’t...but once again, he had no say in the matter. Damien smirked before moving to stand to Kyle’s side, letting his eyes pulse. “ _Eius maxima timore, videamus eos_.” He paused, watching his creations slide up through the floor looking at him compliantly and he smiled. “Open,” Damien smacked Kyle’s head lightly.  
  
Kyle’s eyes opened, his heart dropping as he found himself staring at his family, Stan, Ken, and Cartman. All of them motionless dolls, sitting cross-legged on the floor staring right back at him. “W-what are you doing?” he whispered, his eyes darting along to the six in front of him in panic. He lingered on his ‘mother’ and he shuddered, not able to get that damnable evil grin out of his mind once more.  
  
“You’re going to sit here with them the rest of the day,” he said plainly, mindlessly untangling a curl. “You’re going to sit here and tell the most important people in your life just who it is you belong to. You’re going to tell them how much you _enjoy_ being with me. Do you understand?”  
  
Kyle shrunk down, his heart trying to stop itself, trying to make it so he could just die right here and now and not have to be submitted to this. “Why do you hate me?” he asked quietly. “Why?”  
  
“I don’t hate you, little one,” he smirked, yanking on his hair a tad. “In fact, I’m the only one who will care for you.” He bent down, kissing Kyle’s head and nipping at him with his fangs as Kyle’s focus stayed brokenly on the dolls before him. “Now. Begin.”  
  
 **...**  
  
He had never imagined when God sent him down to Hell that there would be so much paperwork he’d have to do. He pouted lightly, wondering if God himself even had to do this shit. He was jolted from his work at a knock came at his door. “Yeah?” he shouted out, throwing his reading glasses down on the desk and rubbing his eyes.  
  
A demon popped its head in through the door, bowing respectfully. “My Lord, there’s a Kenny McCormick who has requested to speak with you?”  
  
“Oh boy,” Satan muttered. He sighed and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, yeah let him in.” He leaned back in his chair and grated his lip a bit. He knew this would be coming. He knew eventually Kenny had to get to the point where he’d be begging for help. And he knew _exactly_ how this conversation was going to go down. He’d prepared for every little thing that Kenny could throw at him. He knew well enough to be vague, or Kyle’s soul would be in hectic jeopardy. He still had a few months left to go, Satan couldn’t be the one to rip his chance away from him. He watched as a shock of blonde hair and baggy eyes stumbled into his office, blue eyes glimmering desperately. The Beast shuddered. He forgot how well Kenny could pull off his puppy-dog face when he needed to. “Ken, what can I do for you?” he asked, gesturing to a chair before his desk.  
  
Kenny slowly closed the door behind him and made his way over, sitting down and staring up at Satan straight in the face. “Satan,” he said, his voice cracking. “I-I need your help. Damien...he took Kyle,” he sniffled. “Please. _Please_ you have to help me find him!”  
  
Satan shifted uncomfortably, his practiced words seeming to dissipate at the desperation in Kenny’s voice. “And how long as he had him?”  
  
“About a year and four months,” Kenny grumbled, looking down at the floor with a defeated expression.  
  
The demon stared at him for a moment, cocking his head. He knew well enough how long Kyle had been Damien’s prisoner, but Kenny was never hesitant when it came to asking for something he wanted. “Why did you wait so long to come to me?”  
  
“Because...h-he’s your son...” he gulped, looking back at him and sniffling. “I figured...you’d be on his side no matter what but...I’m out of options and this is killing me!”  
  
He gave an awkward chuckle, “You can’t say that’s new territory for you, Ken...though you _have_ been picking up the pace on your deaths again,” he raised his brow.  
  
He shrugged, running his fingers through his hair. “I’ve been killing myself,” he admitted. “The more time I’m down here, the more of a chance I have to find Kyle...” he trailed off and bit his lip.  
  
Satan sighed, leaning his head into his palm and staring down at the broken shell of a boy. It was remarkable, he noticed, how both he and Kyle had fallen so far in the time they’d been separated. Kenny was nowhere _near_ as torn asunder as Kyle had been when he saw him, but the damage was definitely still there. “Ken, I’ll tell you this: I’m very rarely on Damien’s side.” Ken cocked his brow confusedly and he shrugged with another chuckle. “You know how mortal teenagers are a handful? Try having one with goddamn magical powers. It’s a bitch I’ll tell you that.”  
  
“So...you’ll help?” he asked hopefully, Satan having to look away from that pleading grin before it drove him to taking him straight to Kyle. He’d always liked Kenny, always had his door open for him. His stories of life on Earth always kept him entertained from the humdrum world of Hell and he always had a smile on his face. He didn’t think he’d ever seen the boy so heartbroken in any of his deaths. It certainly hit Satan’s sympathetic notes with vigor.  
  
“I...I can’t,” he said hesitantly. He could practically hear Kenny’s deadened heart shattering into pieces, every ounce of hope rushing out of him around the room. Kenny was always a restless spirit, but this was just too strong of an anxious aura for Satan himself to withstand for long. He took a deep breath to gather his thoughts. It was for Kyle. Kenny would benefit in the end. He just had to stall him. “I don’t know where Damien has him,” he lied. “Unfortunately, my son is pretty skilled at hiding things he doesn’t want me to find. But I’ll tell you this...if Kyle had fully died, I’d know. So he’s still out there, waiting for you,” he said softly.  
  
Kenny’s shoulders slumped and he had tears beginning to trail lightly down his cheeks. “He hates me,” he whispered. “I...I can’t find him and...and he _hates_ me.”  
  
“No, no,” he shook his head sympathetically. “Kyle’s too smart for that. I guarantee wherever he is, he hates Damien. Not you.” He watched Kenny trying to get himself under control and smirked lightly at him. “Kyle means a lot to you, huh?”  
  
“The world,” he whispered, slowly getting off the chair back onto his wobbling legs. “Can...can you...keep an eye out for him?” he asked desperately.  
  
“Of course,” he nodded. He watched as Kenny turned and walked towards the door. “Hey, Ken?” he shot out before he could stop the words. The blonde turned and looked back at him, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Satan paused before giving him a reassuring smile. “You’ll get him back. Just be patient. I promise.”  
  
Kenny stared for a moment before the smallest hint of a smile crept up his lips. “Thanks,” he whispered before gradually showing himself out of the office. Satan watched after him, folding his hands together and taking a deep breath, shaking his head. Turning away desperate souls was never something Satan enjoyed, and it was rarely done once their punishments had been doled out and they were free to walk amongst Hell as they pleased. But this was the one case where he knew it had to be done. This was the one case he’d come across where a life depended on it.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eius maxima timore, videamus eos’ means roughly: His greatest fears, show them. Because Kyle’s greatest fear would definitely be losing his pride in front of people he cared about. Flawless headcanon is flawless. Thanks for reading!


	16. Chapter 16

**Day 552**  
  
Damien watched his pet with eager, lax eyes, taking in every inch of his lithe body; Every curve of now frail muscle gleaming in his lights. The way Kyle’s head hung defeatedly, completely exhausted and beyond unwilling to keep himself going made his skin prickle in excitement. Kyle’s eyes were focused on the pile of food and water left for him on the floor, waiting for the last two days to have permission to partake in it. Damien could feel every ounce of hate and anger flowing through the boy, delighted at the muted emotions compared to his earlier disobedience. Kyle was finally beginning to walk that fine line. He’d been so close for so long, but Damien had finally nudged him onto the crossing. He just had to shove him over. A part of the demon was shocked that the last few weeks of telling his ‘loved ones’ of his ownership hadn’t completely wore him down, but the damage was spelled clearly on his pretty face. He was humiliated, frustrated, tired, and most of all, he was getting scared. Not of Damien’s attacks, but of losing himself. The redhead was finally starting to realize that he was fading and he was fading _fast_. Damien couldn’t be happier in the development.  
  
He took a step over towards him, watching as Kyle’s head slowly turned towards the noise. The demon paused, entranced at the dead look in the boy’s vivid eyes. Damien stepped up beside him, putting a hand in his hair and grinning at Kyle’s subtle flinch. “How are you, today?”  
  
“Fine,” he mumbled. “Hungry.”  
  
“Aw,” he feigned a pout. “Well if Puppy wants food, Puppy needs to beg.”  
  
He took a deep breath. “May I please eat, Master?” he asked, the venom on his tongue minute, still there, but hidden under a thick layer of debacle. Damien cleared his throat and yanked his hair and Kyle hissed. He slowly raised his head, locking eyes with Damien as he was supposed to. “May I _please_ eat, Master?” he asked, teeth grinding against each other a bit.   
  
Damien smirked. His little bulldog was still in there somewhere. “Yes. You may eat.” He watched in joy as Kyle crawled over to his food and slowly began to bend to partake in his meal. Damien began to pace in front of him, watching as Kyle’s keen gaze flickered to him now and again as he silently ate and drank. “It’s fantastic, isn’t it, Pup?”  
  
“What?” he said past a chunk of meat.  
  
“Being obedient. The way I treat you so kindly,” he smiled. “Isn’t it wonderful?”  
  
Kyle rolled his eyes and Damien kicked him hard in the side, sending him spiraling into his water puddle. “Sorry, Master,” he groaned softly, curling into himself, his chained arms coming up to clutch at his injury.  
  
Damien smirked. No prompting needed on the apology. This was going swimmingly. He waited for Kyle to look back up at him and gave a curt nod. “Answer the question, little one.”  
  
Kyle struggled back onto his knees and grated his lip angrily. “Yes. It’s _wonderful_ , Master,” he quipped sarcastically. Damien came towards him again and Kyle quickly backed away from him, eyes widening with a glaze of fright. “Sorry, Master, sorry!” he insisted, trying to anticipate where Damien was possibly going to strike him.  
  
“Hm,” Damien mused, reaching down and grabbing Kyle’s chin, feeling the rapid pulse beneath his fingertips and feeling his stomach swelling in pleasure. “I’ll forgive you _this_ time. Do not make the same mistake again. Am I clear?”  
  
“Yes, Master,” he nodded, trying to beat down his urge to once again spit in the demon’s face.   
  
Damien let go and nudged him back towards his food. Kyle shied down, slowly licking water off the floor and wondering what the hell Damien was up to. He never lingered just to watch him eat. He was planning something. And the thought made Kyle’s starved insides curl. “So, little bulldog,” Damien’s voice broke through the air again. “Tell me, what is it about me you find so _kind_?” he drawled, knowing full and well that answering a question like that would rip Kyle’s pride to shreds. He had to see it.  
  
Kyle raised his head from his puddle and stared up at the demon. Was he fucking serious? A glint in his red eyes told him well enough that he was. He looked around for an easy answer so he could just get back to his food and hope that Damien left him to eat in peace. “When you don’t beat me, it’s nice,” he muttered, shoulders sinking.  
  
“What else?”  
  
“When you...pet...my hair and don’t pull it, it’s nice,” Kyle forced out, his fists clenching. He was losing his temper again. He had to force it down. He knew just what would happen. He knew that Damien was counting on him losing it.  
  
Damien bent down and stared at his ruddy face with a cocky grin. “And what is so kind about me when I’m fucking you, my pet?”  
  
Kyle’s reddened cheeks blanched for but a moment before that anger that Damien so wanted sprung back. “It’s nice that your dick is so small!” he spat. He flinched, his jaw dropping as soon as the last wisps of the phrase passed through his lips. He gulped. “I’m sorry, Master...” he breathed heavily, watching Damien’s darkened face and evil smile. He was in a lot of fucking trouble. “Fuck, I-I’m sorry, Master!” he repeated, his shoulders shaking out of control, threatening to let himself buckle onto the floor.  
  
Damien simply curled his finger towards himself and Kyle let out a broken breath, forcing his petrified body to clamber towards the demon. He stopped at his legs, looking up at those garnets and gulping. Damien knelt down in front of him and Kyle automatically lowered his head, knowing well enough to keep himself below his eye level. Damien smiled satisfactorily. Kyle was certainly wonderful at remembering his rules whenever he was about to get into trouble. Like a child and their parent, all control was taken back once the concept of punishment was on the table. “And just how sorry _are_ you?” he asked, flicking Kyle’s forehead a bit.  
  
“Really _really_ sorry, Master,” he said hurriedly, keeping his head ducked down, forcing off his humiliation. It didn’t matter. What mattered was getting out of this predicament unscathed. He could mentally berate himself later.  
  
“So, were you lying, then?” he grinned, cupping Kyle’s shaking chin.  
  
Kyle forced an even breath out of himself. He knew exactly where this one was going. “Yes, Master,” he said. “Your dick...isn’t...small.”  
  
Damien chuckled, patting his cheek with his free hand. “You do love it, don’t you, my pet?”  
  
“Yes,” he strained.   
  
“Say it all, Pup,” he ordered.  
  
“I...love your...cock, Master,” he worked out, his eyes drooping in pure embarrassment before being shaken back to attention.  
  
“So _so_ good,” Damien purred, leaning down and licking Kyle’s lips with a quick flick, feeling Kyle resisting pulling himself away. He chuckled. “Do you know what good boys get, my Kyle?”  
  
“No, Master,” he answered softly, bracing himself for the inevitable attack.  
  
“They _always_ get their rewards,” he said. “And you have _certainly_ earned a reward for saying what Master wanted to hear so beautifully. Would you like to know what you’ve earned?”  
  
‘ _No. God no_ ,’ Kyle thought before swallowing his anxiety and searching Damien’s eyes for malice, concerned when he found none. “Yes, Master?” he winced a bit.  
  
That devilish grin spread back on the demon’s face and Kyle didn’t have the time to so much as panic before being shoved onto his back on the ground. The chains around his wrists pulled them above his head slowly, keeping them rigged taut in place. He gulped, eyes widening in concern as Damien moved over straddling his thighs and sitting atop his knees. Claws traced over his body gently and Kyle began breathing in broken gasps. This was new. He didn’t know what was happening. He didn’t know what to even brace himself for!  
  
“Calm yourself,” Damien said cooly, letting his eyes trace over the sinewy ivory curves lied out before him. “Beautiful,” he murmured, half-unbelieving that he’d managed to catch himself such a lovely creature. Nearly unable to comprehend the fact that he’d nearly tamed the boy, claimed each inch of him for himself. All that is, except for _one_ part.  
  
“Master?” Kyle whispered, beginning to sweat, feeling Damien’s sharp eyes slicing into his skin like fresh meat. “W-what are you doing?”  
  
Damien smiled at him with half-lidded eyes. “Giving my pet something he’s earned,” he cooed. His eyes pulsed and a simple “ _inlitus_ ” left his lips. He held up his hand, letting Kyle watch as a clear, slimy substance seeped through his palm. Kyle’s eyes batted in utter confusion and the demon grinned. “You made me feel good, my pet,” he said softly, touching his nose with a wet finger and slowly sliding it down Kyle’s face and chest. “I wish to repay it.”  
  
“W-what do you-” he stopped, frozen as Damien’s finger made its way down his slender stomach and brushed over his cock. “No,” he whispered, shaking his head slowly. Damien couldn’t do that. He fucking _couldn’t_. Damien chuckled, wrapping his warmed, slick hand around Kyle’s limp cock and slowly stroking him. Kyle whimpered, writhing as he tried to escape the working hand. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t let Damien have this over him. He let out a frustrated cry as his body began to react, his stomach filling with warmth and curling in need. His body was betraying him, and he couldn’t do a goddamn thing about it. He tried desperately to think of Damien beating him, his overall predicament, _anything_ to make his body lose the fire that Damien was beginning to kindle. He tried thinking of people back home he found disgusting, unable to picture _anyone_ but the monster slowly working his stiffening cock to life.  
  
Damien watched him reacting with his tongue sliding over his lips. This was something he wanted to see for a long time. Kyle unable to control himself, unable to fight away from something so simple. “Look at you,” he murmured with lathering words. “So beautiful. So willing to give yourself to me and me alone.”  
  
“N-no!” he cried out, eyes clenched shut and head lolling around on the floor. Damien’s weight kept his weakened legs firmly planted on the ground, his hips involuntarily arching and feeding Damien’s waiting palm.  
  
“Doesn’t this feel nice, Pup?” he smirked, working Kyle’s hardening cock with velvet hands. “Look at what you get from me when you’re well behaved. Wouldn’t you like this more often?” he taunted.  
  
“Just let go!” Kyle groaned, frustrated tears dancing like moonbeams on cinnamon lashes. He just couldn’t do this. He couldn’t let Damien have this complete submission. “Please stop!” he begged.  
  
Damien shook his head amusedly, brushing his thumb over Kyle’s leaking slit. “Look at you,” he purred. “So beautiful. Your body belongs to _me_ and you know it.”  
  
“No, no, no!” Kyle insisted, his body beginning to coil, warring itself out against anger and nauseating pleasure. “My b-body is...is mine!” he screamed, hips jutting still against the hand.  
  
“How wrong you are,” he quirked his brow. “After all, you seem to be enjoying this.”  
  
“Biology,” he hissed, lip grating furiously in his teeth. “Not...not you. Biology!”  
  
The noirette watched him hungrily. He was fighting so damn hard against this. He was finally losing a battle within himself. Damien shuddered, feeling Kyle’s rock-hard cock practically throbbing in his hold. He looked at the struggling face and grinned. He could take this even further. He took his free hand and undid his own pants, grabbing his erect dick and moving himself up further on Kyle’s body. He moved his cock up against Kyle’s shuddering in the heat as he grasped them both and continued moving his hand.  
  
Kyle shot his head down, his face horrified at what lied before him. “God, no!” he screamed. “Please stop!” he slammed his head back down onto the stone, wriggling around insistently. Damien shuddered at the friction rubbing between the both of them, their cocks pressing against each other in a wonderful blazing heat.   
  
“Look how hard you are with my cock touching you,” Damien continued to taunt, letting out a long, satisfied sigh as he moved his leg down, forcing Kyle’s legs apart and getting between them, letting his hips press down onto his captive’s. Kyle screamed, shaking his head around madly as Damien rutted against him, thrusting him down against the stone. “Look at you,” he chuckled, leaning down over Kyle and nipping at his collarbone. “Legs spread around me like a little whore, begging for Master’s touch.”   
  
“No!” he screeched again, losing every ounce of his battle at the friction bearing down on him. “Stop, Master, fucking please!” he begged. His pride couldn’t take this. This was going to be it for him. He couldn’t let Damien give him any bit of pleasure. It’d mean he _lost_.  
  
Damien could feel Kyle tensing, his body coming towards its end like a bullet. “Been so long since you’ve felt this, hasn’t it, Pup?” he breathed heavily, tongue tracing around Kyle’s chest and making him squirm. “Haven’t had such pleasure in _so_ long. Your body is aching for it, isn’t it? You want to cum just for Master, don’t you?”   
  
Tears began freely leaking down Kyle’s temples, his hips riding along on their own accord. He couldn’t force his body down for anything, letting Damien’s movements push him along bitterly. “Please stop,” he tried one last time, barely a touch of a whisper flowing through parted lips. His mouth fell agape, Damien watching his head leaning back, collared throat arching up beautifully in a graceful curve. He grinned. Kyle finally lost.  
  
A loud cry flew through Kyle’s open mouth, his hips jerking up suddenly as he finally released between the two of them. He sobbed, trying to catch his breath as Damien continued to drive against him. He felt so much _shame_. He was this demon’s prisoner, the creature who did nothing but torture and humiliate him. He could deal with the pain. He could tolerate the terms he was forced to repeat time after time. But giving him the victory over his pleasure? It was too far. It was way too much for poor exhausted Kyle to be able to handle. He just let himself cry silently, his sensitive cock throbbing in sharp pain against Damien’s rutting. He heard a long moan and felt the warm spatter of Damien’s cum clashing down on top of his stomach.   
  
He sniveled miserably, completely frozen as Damien pulled off of him. He never hated himself more. Never wanted more to just hide away until he rotted into nothingness. He lost his fucking _control_. The one thing that he’d always prided himself on, knowing just when too far was too far, being able to contain himself was something he worked for years to be able to achieve. Every ounce of that work, every speck of dignity he had...gone and collected in a cooling puddle on his protruding ribs.  
  
He opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling blearily. Damien’s thumb traced down through their mixed releases and he leaned over to look his victim in the face. He chuckled at the scandalized expression and pressed his thumb into Kyle’s still open mouth, dragging the both of them down his tongue. Kyle groaned, shaking his head and feeling his entire body burning. Damien grinned. “Good boys always get their rewards,” he repeated. Kyle just shut his eyes and turned his head, their tastes dancing in a cruel, sickening waltz on his tongue. Damien watched him and his heaving chest, his tensed muscles and humiliated face. Fangs gleamed in the low lighting in elation.   
  
Kyle was finally beginning to topple.  
  


* * *

  
  
**Present Day - Week 19**   
  
Curled up on his side on his bed, Kyle stared blankly at the clock next to him. It’d been four hours of this. Just sitting and staring after his speech therapy. His hips were killing him, his entire body feeling beyond ravaged from Damien’s assault the week before. He had no idea what he’d done wrong this time around, but he knew from the claw cuts deep in his hips that he must have fucked up something awful. He sighed, wondering if he’d always taken so long to recover from injuries or if this came with the territory of being the Devil’s slave. He had noticed that he’d been getting stronger throughout the last few weeks, but Damien’s attack left him nearly rendered helpless once again. He sniffled, curling into himself miserably.  
  
 Kenny still wasn’t back. He didn’t know where he was. He couldn’t remember a damn thing about the night he went to see him except how he glowed; A beautifully pale image in Kyle’s foggy mind of blonde hair and striking ice blue eyes. He craved to see it all in the flesh once again. He wondered what he could be doing, what was so important that it’d take him away for over a week. Kyle had barely managed to find himself two other victims for the current week and the last in his state. He found them both while out about town, wondered who they were, but decided not to concern himself too heavily with the details. He needed to focus on figuring out where Kenny was. Something was telling him that he needed to talk to the blonde for something important. He just wished he could figure out what.  
  
A soft knock on his door made him flinch a bit but he gulped, settling himself down. “Yes?” he called out quietly. It slowly creaked open to show Stan poking his head in, giving the redhead his trademarked caring smile.  
  
“Hey, Dude,” he greeted, stepping in and closing the door behind him.  
  
Kyle smiled as much as he could manage, struggling to sit himself back up against his headboard. “Hi, S-stan, what’s...up?” he stammered out, cursing himself for not even making it through that simple statement.  
  
Stan, however, beamed proudly as he walked over, sitting on the bed cross-legged and staring at the boy. “Wow, Dude,” he grinned. “Three weeks of working on talking and you’re already a shit ton better. Usually that would’ve taken you like, two minutes to work out.”  
  
Kyle blushed, feeling foolish for being complimented for something that three year olds could accomplish with ease. “Not g-good yet,” he frowned. “Want...better.”  
  
“Hey, you’re getting there,” he assured him, patting his leg gently. “You’re Kyle fucking Broflovski. You can talk through anything,” he laughed a bit sadly. “So where’ve you been?” he cocked his head. “Ike told me you go to therapy but that’s it this past week. I thought you were trying to get out more.”  
  
Kyle looked at him sadly, turning a bit and raising his shirt, showing Stan the mess Damien had made of his hips. Stan’s jaw dropped and he looked back at Kyle with his deep blue eyes shining. “M-master hurt...me,” he winced. “Walking...hurts.”  
  
He nodded sympathetically. “Why’d he hurt you?” he asked before perking slightly with hope. “Did you eat without his permission?”  
  
He shook his head. He hadn’t eaten a damn thing since last week, unwilling to risk asking the demon for a favor. “I-I don’t know...what I did,” he shrugged. “Can’t...remember.” Stan’s face fell once more and he sighed, rubbing Kyle’s knee. “Kenny?” Kyle asked quietly.  
  
Stan cocked his head. “What about him?”  
  
“Where...?” he bit his lip, searching Stan’s face.  
  
“Oh,” he shrugged, running his hand through his hair. “Ken’s dead, Dude.” He watched Kyle’s face drop into pure devastation before slowly shaking his hands in front of him. “But it’s okay. He’ll be back.”  
  
Kyle blinked. “B-back? How...?”  
  
He shrugged, “Dude, I don’t know how. And I’m pretty sure Ken doesn’t know how either. Apparently he’s been doing that since we were kids. But I didn’t notice until you were kidnapped.” Kyle looked down at his mattress confusedly. Kenny could die and come back? Is _that_ what he meant when in Damien’s ‘vision’, when he said he’d keep searching through Hell to find him? The muddled mind tried working through it before a clear image jolted in front of him. The glint of a knife, a slit throat, pale, unmoving lips that he had to stare at. He gasped and Stan moved over beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder as Kyle’s fingers raked through his hair. “Ky? What is it, what’s wrong?” he asked.  
  
 He put a hand to his throat and stared at Stan with a dropped jaw. “K-Kenny...killed...me...”  
  
He blinked. “Kenny killed you?”  
  
He shook his head vigorously, “In front...of me,” he forced out.   
  
Stan stared at him with narrowed eyes before he bit his lip a bit. “Kenny...killed himself...in front of you?” he tried, a bit relieved when Kyle nodded. Relieved that is until feeling a surge of pure anger at the blonde. As if the poor kid wasn’t damaged enough! “Kyle, I’m sorry he did that in front of you,” he said, rubbing the boy’s shoulder. “That asshole wouldn’t know tact if it fucking smacked him in the face.”  
  
Kyle grabbed Stan’s arm, feeling like he needed to tell his best friend something. A familiar instinct was kicking in, the one that made him spill nearly every secret of his life to the boy beside him. Something about a kiss. About Kenny. The synagogue situation maybe? He narrowed his eyes. That _seemed_ right... “Ken...me...” he licked his lips. “K-kissed.”  
  
Stan stared at him in shock. “That _fucktard_ kissed you?!” he forced his screech to a low volume as to not freak Kyle out more than need-be. “He took advantage of you?!”  
  
He shook his head, “I-I wanted...it,” he said slowly.  
  
Stan lowered himself to sit beside him, looking at him carefully. “Ky, are you sure you don’t just want someone who isn’t Damien?”  
  
Once again, he shook his head. “B-before Damien...I wanted K-Ken.”  
  
Stan’s eyes widened and his jaw slowly dropped wide open. He didn’t know that. He had no fucking _idea_ that Kyle had any iota of feeling for Kenny back then. He’d figured out from Damien that Ken wanted the redhead, but that wasn’t too much of a shock. The guy was never very subtle. “Why didn’t you tell me then?” he asked, a little hurt that Kyle kept it a secret. Kyle shrugged, his eyes getting that dazed look they got when he was trying to remember something and just couldn’t pull it up. Stan cleared his throat. “I mean, that’s fine with me, Ky. It seriously is. You know I don’t judge you for that kind of stuff...” he trailed off, his face falling concernedly. “But...what would Damien do if you and Ken...ya know...got together?” he winced.  
  
Kyle blinked, dropping his eyes to the mattress. He hissed a bit, lurching as the claw marks on his hips throbbed angrily. “I-I don’t know,” he whispered, shutting his eyes and leaning against Stan. The noirette blinked a bit before smirking softly, wrapping his arm around Kyle’s shoulder. It’d been too long since this. Been _far_ too long since they’d had a true best friend moment. Stan had needed it something awful for so long, he could only imagine how badly Kyle had been craving it while locked away. The thought made him cling onto the boy just a tad tighter. “Stan?” Kyle’s voice pushed through the moment softly.  
  
“Yeah, Ky?”  
  
Green and red shined as they locked into Stan’s eyes, a nervous grating of the lip taking hold. “Do...do you t-think...I’m b-broke?”  
  
Stan stared at him before smiling softly and shaking his head. “No,” he answered. “Kyle, if you were broken, you wouldn’t be working to get better. You’re gonna get through this. I promise.”  
  
Kyle took a deep breath, his hand coming up slowly to his throat. “Damien...” he whispered. “H-he won’t let me...fix...me,” he frowned. Stan stared some more at him, at a loss for words. Kyle had a point. There was little to no chance that Damien would give him leeway to make himself better. Not without taking him back to Hell to retrain at least. He shuddered, pulling Kyle in tighter and leaning his head back against Kyle’s headboard. Stan knew his options were few, the only logical course for now, however, seemed to be what it had always been: Be the best friend and the support. A part of him couldn’t help but ache, wishing fervently for the day when Kyle would be recovered enough to be able to once again return the favor.  
  
 **...**  
  
Kenny snarled, stomping through Hell, letting ash and ember float up around him in sporadic dances. This was some high-class _bullshit_. He pushed past a particularly frantic demon trying to stop his war path on the way to Satan’s office. A week without returning back to Earth. Something here had Damien’s shitty handwriting all over it. He slammed his fist on the huge barrier, hearing an annoyed “ _What?_ ” coming from the other side. He pushed his way in, Satan’s face dropping instantly from disgruntled to concerned. “Kenny? What’s the matter?”  
  
“Your son!” he accused, slamming the door behind him. “Ironic how I have something really fucking important to tell Kyle and I haven’t been able to go back to Earth for a fucking week now, isn’t it?!” he practically screeched, tearing at his hair.  
  
Satan blinked, Kenny watching as the Beast held up his hand and a stack of papers materialized in his palm. Satan leaned back, shuffling through papers and cocking his head. “Hm.”  
  
“Hm what?” Kenny asked, feeling a bit worried. “T-this isn’t my actual _end_ is it?!”  
  
He chuckled, “No, no. You wish,” he winked. “Looks like Damien diverted your soul from its usual course...way out of the way, Jesus,” he rolled his eyes.  
  
Kenny ‘hmphed’, crossing his arms and tapping his shoe. “What a fucking son of a bitch...” he paused. “No offense, Man.”  
  
He waved his hand dismissively. “At this rate it’ll take a month for your soul to catch back up to you...” he looked to see the despair on the blonde’s face and looked at him curiously. “What is it you need to tell Kyle?” he asked.  
  
Kenny suddenly blushed and shrugged. “That...uh...I love him?” he winced embarrassedly. “I-I had this dream...and old bodied Kyle came to see me. He told me to tell real Kyle my feelings...but I was afraid I’d forget so...”  
  
“So you killed yourself in the dream,” he finished with a nod. “Smart.”  
  
“Yeah!” he nodded. “I always remember what was going on before I die, and I’ve remembered other dreams that killed me. Like that one where the goat people used me as a sacrifice?”  
  
“Ah yes,” he chuckled. “I remember you bitching for hours about ‘those fucking bearded assholes’.”  
  
“Hey, if they can climb up fucking vertical walls, they don’t need a sacrifice,” he smirked before it fell again. “Satan, this can’t wait a month. I-I don’t know why...but I feel like me telling Kyle this will help him.”  
  
He nodded in agreement, “I think you’re right. Kyle needs all the love he can get right now.” He couldn’t help but feel his insides dancing. This is what he’d been waiting for. Damien was playing right into his hands. Now he just had to move his pieces correctly. Kyle had been working as hard as he could all on his own to relinquish Damien’s hold, he needed someone to help push him in the right direction from here on out. “All right, Ken. Here’s what we’re going to do. It’ll take another week for you to get back to Earth, but I can find your soul and send you back. You’re the only one who can save Kyle at this point.”  
  
Kenny blinked and nodded slowly. “What do I have to do? I’ll do anything, Dude.”  
  
He smiled. “I know you will. And believe me, it’s nothing that’s going to push either of you very far to your edge...” he leaned back and grinned at the bewildered boy. “After all, the two of you have been wanting it for so very long.”  
  



	17. Chapter 17

**Present Day - Week 20**  
  
He tapped his foot impatiently on the sidewalk, bouncing in his anticipation. Two weeks without seeing Kyle had nearly rendered the blonde asunder, just waiting for the moment to come where he’d be able to tell him what was needed to be said. “You said ten minutes, Stan, come on,” he muttered, pouting slightly. He shivered in the brisk January air, pulling his hood up over his head and tightening it around his face. He huddled into the familiar comfort and sighed. It made him think of better times before their whole mess started. When he would just sit back and hide away, listening to his friends and just following them around when he could. He remembered when they were all around thirteen and Kyle very slowly managed to convince him over time to occasionally put down the hood. Kenny had no idea how, but he’d managed to do it, and he only put it up when it was -as Kyle called it- “socially acceptable”. He laughed a little at the memory, shaking his head. Only Kyle could ever tell him how to dress without the blonde ragging on him for the rest of his life.  
  
A gleam caught his eye and he looked up, seeing Stan’s hand-me-down pickup making its way towards the synagogue parking lot. He smiled, picking up his feet and heading around the side of the building towards them, watching the truck slowly coming to a stop after slipping a tad on some ice. The truck shut off and Stan hopped out, looking at Kenny tiredly. “Sorry we’re late. Fuckin’ black ice everywhere,” he shook his hands around frantically.  
  
“S’all good,” he nodded, muffled under his heavy hood. He headed to the passenger side where Kyle was struggling to get down onto the ground. The redhead looked up as he came beside him, smiling brightly. Kenny couldn’t help but smile back. He loved that about Kyle. He was always so damn happy to see him. “Need help, Ky?”  
  
He blushed and nodded. “S-sorry,” he winced. Ken waved the notion away, reaching up and hefting under Kyle’s arms. He slowly counted off, helping maneuver the boy shakily down onto the ground. His shoe caught a patch of ice and he nearly slipped, Kenny keeping a tight hold on him and pulling him into his neck. Kyle blushed again and cleared his throat, backing away and looking down.   
  
Stan watched from the back, snorting at their little show. He beat his hand against the door. “Cartman, c’mon!” he called softly. “Get out here!”  
  
 “Meeehhhh,” came a high whine before the door slowly opened. Cartman looked beyond exhausted. Heavy bags weighing under his eyes, brown hair disheveled beyond repair.  
  
Ken raised his brow, “You okay, Fatass? You look like shit.”  
  
“I _feel_ like shit,” he grumbled, stepping out of the car and slowly closing the door. “Fuckin’ Craig and those guys gave me their fuckin’ disease or whatever.”  
  
“Ah, so my diagnosis was correct,” Ken nodded with a smirk. “It is mono. Stop makin’ out with Craig’s gang and you won’t be so infected, Tubsy.”  
  
“Fuck off,” he rolled his eyes, not having nearly enough energy to make a ‘witty’ retort.  
  
Stan laughed, “Hey, Token’s feeling better, so it’s not permanent. Calm your tits and just ride it through.” He paused and turned his attention to the blonde still holding Kyle curiously. “So why here, Ken?” he jerked his head to the synagogue.   
  
“Because,” he said, starting to move Kyle slowly towards the building. “Damien can’t get to him, that’s why,” he jerked his head down at the boy, heart sinking as Kyle’s eyes flittered frantically at the name. “Shh,” he cooed, rubbing Kyle’s back as they slowly meandered towards the door. “I need to talk to ya, Ky,” he said gently. “And Damien can’t hear, okay?”  
  
“He’ll _know_ ,” he said worriedly, fingers clutching in Kenny’s parka.  
  
“No he won’t,” he assured him. “I know from a very special source that he can’t get to you here, all right?” Kyle looked up at him and nodded at those blue eyes, knowing that Ken wouldn’t lead him astray. Not for something as serious as this. They all finally made their way up to the large doors, Stan opening one for the three of them to make their way through. He shot Cartman a somewhat concerned gaze at his slow gait, dropping it immediately as the brunette flipped him off. They walked into the main sanctuary and Kyle took a shuddery breath, feeling that cloud leaving him once again, leading him into the eye of the storm. Ken’s hand grasped his chin, pulling his face up and staring in his eyes. He nodded in approval. “Good. He’s out,” he said.  
  
Kyle blinked before raising his hands, pushing Kenny’s hood back off his head. “Not...appropriate,” he gave a small smirk. Kenny grinned back, clasping him in a tight hug.  
  
“It’s nice to hear your bitching again,” he chuckled. He pulled back and glanced Kyle up and down. “Dude, where’s your cane?”  
  
He looked down and frowned. “He t-took it,” he muttered.  
  
“Damien?” he winced.  
  
Stan came up and nodded. “Apparently Kyle really pissed him off a few weeks ago.” He lifted Kyle’s shirt a bit to show the healing but still prominent claw marks in his skin. “Ky hasn’t been allowed to eat or really move around much since you died, Dude.”   
  
Kenny narrowed his gaze confusedly. Interesting timing, he noticed. He shook off the thoughts and grasped Kyle’s hands, leading him slowly to a bench and sitting him down. The redhead stared at him, attention fully set on the boy as he sat beside him. “Okay, so I need to tell you something, Kyle. Something _really_ important.” Kyle nodded, mouth partially agape in confusion. “I-” he stopped, seeing Stan and Cartman staring at them intently. “Uh...can you guys like...go away?” he urged.  
  
“Uh...no?” Stan mocked with a raised brow. “Dude, you call me and scream for me to pick up Kyle and bring him here and you want me to fuck off? Whatever you have to say to _him_ is pertinent to me, too!”   
  
They glared at each other before Kenny sighed in aggravation. “Fine. You puke, you fucking clean it up, you understand me?” Stan blinked confusedly but nodded in agreement as Kenny turned back to stare at the redhead. “Kyle. I need to tell you something that I’ve wanted to say to you for _years_ ,” he stressed. He cocked his head curiously, nodding for him to continue. “I-” he faltered and cleared his throat. Two weeks of practice didn’t make this easier. Especially with Stan and Cartman practically breathing down his neck. “Kyle,” he restarted firmly. “I...love you.” he breathed out.  
  
 The room suddenly tensed over, Kenny could practically _hear_ the bile rising in Stan’s stomach. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was Kyle’s reaction. He nearly sobbed in relief when a tiny smile passed over his slim face. “R-really?” he asked quietly, though he could tell from the desperation in Kenny’s eyes it was the honest to God truth.  
  
He nodded briskly, “Yes. Really. A-and Damien...he tried to keep me in Hell to keep us away from each other.”  
  
He narrowed his eyes a bit, the happiness dropping from his gaze. “Damien,” he repeated softly, looking down at his and Kenny’s held hands. He jerked a bit, the clarity of that night slamming back into him full force. “You...killed yourself...to remember,” he whispered, eyes alit with the memory.  
  
Kenny’s jaw dropped. “How the hell did you-”   
  
He stopped as Kyle’s hands came up and cupped his face. “Fifteen,” he whispered. “Since we w-were fifteen...you said...” Kenny nodded slowly, absolutely lost beyond belief at this point. Kyle reached down and touched a damaged hip with one hand.  
  
“B-because...I love...you,” he smiled, delighted that he was beginning to piece together such a clear memory, despite the massive consequences that’d been bestowed upon him as a result.  
  
“Wait...” he said slowly. “That...that wasn’t a dream?” Kyle shook his head and his eyes widened. “Oh _fuck_ I actually killed myself in front of the _real_ you?!” he bit his lip.  
  
“What the fuck is going on?!” Stan looked between the both of them, lost for any hint of an explanation.  
  
“Kyle,” Ken said, ignoring Stan’s frantic befuddlement and Cartman’s tired laughter and mutterings of ‘fags’ over and over. “How were you back in your old body?” he asked. A part of him was wanting to ask why he was naked, too, but that could wait until Stan and Cartman weren’t butting in.  
  
Kyle blushed and shook his head, “I-I don’t k-know,” he admitted. “I-I...for D-Damien...” he trailed off, not knowing how to answer the question. He knew _how_ he got it back...or at least what words he said. That was the extent of his knowledge and he knew Damien planned to keep it as such.  
  
Ken shrunk a bit, pouting. This was beyond confusing. He sighed, leaning forward and grasping Kyle in a tight hug. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, swinging him lightly. “I never would have killed myself if I knew it was actually you.”  
  
Kyle pulled back a bit, smiling gently. “Just glad...you’re...o-okay,” he worked out. Kenny smiled, leaning down and pressing his lips against the redheads, both of them ignoring Stan and Cartman’s gagging noises. Kenny felt his heart flutter in relief. This was the real Kyle, regardless of what body he was in. He knew this for certain, and he couldn’t have been more thankful for it. Kyle sighed happily, hand cupping Kenny’s face in a gentle hold. He remembered. He could feel that elation coursing through him once again, feel more memories beginning to pick up speed through his mind. This was as close to perfection as he’d felt in _so_ long, it was almost too good to be true. Almost.  
  
Kenny pulled back to give the boy some air, seeing the green of his eyes glittering happily and smiling. It slowly fell and he took a deep breath. “Damien knows, doesn’t he?” Kyle bit his lip and nodded with a wince. “And...he’s been punishing you since?” Another nod that broke Kenny’s heart. “Fuck,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Ky, I’m so sorry,” he said.  
  
Kyle frowned and shook his head. “Worth...it,” he said as firmly as he could manage. He gritted his teeth. Damien couldn’t get to him. Not here. His body and soul were _screaming_ at him to keep himself going. This was his shot. This was the chance he had to tell Kenny what he wanted without fear of repercussion and he’d be _damned_ if he wasn’t going to take it. I...want...you,” he continued. “Not **_him_**.” Kenny gave him that wide smile he’d given on that fateful night and he grinned back in relief, the both of them lost in the moment with only each other in the pure ambiance of their surroundings. It came to a grinding halt, however, as a sudden, sharp pain sliced through Kyle’s body. He gasped as his arm began to throb, tearing it away from Kenny’s skin and hissing in pain.   
  
“Ky? Ky what’s wrong?!” Stan asked frantically, finally stopping his cringing at their lip-locking display and corny words and rushing back to the boy’s side behind his bench. Kyle cried out, quickly tearing off his jacket and grasping at his left arm worriedly, his eyes landing on the back of the skin. His mouth dropped.   
  
Kenny gently took his arm and stared at the markings, faded gray veins spread along the back of his hand and wrist, leading up to halfway up his triceps. “Kyle...w-what is this?” He traced his finger over the lines, looking as though scribbled onto Kyle’s skin with pencil.  
  
“What t-the fuck? I-I have no idea!” Kyle exclaimed and they all jerked back in shock.  
  
“K-Kyle?” Stan asked, staring at him with his mouth agape. “Dude, say something else!” he urged.  
  
“Like...like what?” he blinked.  
  
Cartman raised his brow, “Oh yeah, like you’re ever lost for words, you fucking kike.”  
  
Kyle glared at him, “Shove it up y-your ass, F-Fatboy!” he shot back, recoiling with his words. He blinked slowly, his hand coming up and touching his face. What just happened? Where did that even come from?! He took a sudden gasp of breath, feeling his body practically crumbling from the inside-out. Something was waking up inside of him. Something was telling him to _fight_. He clutched around his hair and cheeks, trying to make heads or tails of the overwhelming stimulation coursing through his veins. Something inside of him was breaking down, memories were flooding back into him like a tsunami. Fighting Damien, hitting him, screaming. Everything was flying back at an incredible rate and Kyle felt something he hadn’t felt in a _long_ time: He was feeling _rage_. It was tiny, but it was there. And it was rearing to grow, he could feel it.  
  
He grunted, forcing himself up onto his feet and out into the aisle of the sanctuary, hissing at the pain still throbbing through his calves. He stared down at himself and began breathing rapidly. This was insane. Something far out of his control was beginning to spiral within him and he didn’t know how to handle it. Kenny hopped up beside him, grasping his shoulder and trying to keep him steady. “Kyle, Ky? What is it, Dude?”  
  
He looked at the blonde, finally lowering his hand from his head and staring deep into those blue eyes. That familiar warmth felt as though it expanded into a supernova, Damien’s hold hanging on by mere threads at his emotions. “Ken,” he breathed, tears welling in his eyes. “I...remember more,” he tongued over his lips. “The...the day he took me...a-and,” he gulped, eyes searching Kenny’s face desperately. “ _I’m not his_ ,” he worked out in a cracked whisper, tears freely falling down his cheeks at the now unfamiliar phrasing.  
  
Kenny grinned, overjoyed tears of his own beading the corners of his eyes and he nodded briskly. “That’s right, Dude. You’re _not_.” He reached forward and clasped the redhead in a tight hug. Kyle clutched back around him, sobbing into Kenny’s parka and digging his face down into the fabric. Everything was flowing out of him, every angry word, every pain-filled scream and sob, every heart-wrenching moment was flooding into the comforting sea of orange. His legs began to buckle and Kenny followed him, slowly sliding onto their knees and clinging onto each other in a torrent of overwhelming emotion.   “H-help me,” Kyle whispered against him, nuzzling into his neck. “Kenny, _help me_.”  
  
“I’m going to,” he promised, kissing his head lightly and swinging him. “Kyle, he’s not taking you from us again, I _swear_.” Kyle let out a thankful hiccup, delving into the blonde’s tear soaked skin. He flinched a few times, feeling his momentary break beginning to lessen, feeling Damien’s dark mist starting to once again creep through his veins. Kenny frowned, feeling Kyle’s tenseness beginning to fade and knowing exactly what was happening. Satan had warned him that he wouldn’t get Kyle back all at once, that Damien had too much control over him for Kyle to make a clean break from his grasp. But he couldn’t help but smile. This was all proof enough. Kyle was back in the race.  
  


* * *

  
  
**Day 569**  
  
He’d learned quick that he needed to twist himself when in the air and land down on his hips. It was the least painful way that he could collide onto the ground whenever Damien threw him. He gasped out as he slammed down back onto the stone, wincing at the scraped skin of his hip and right arm beginning to bleed. He whimpered, looking up weakly at the approaching demon. Damien leaned down beside him and gripped his hair. “Fucking. _Beg_.” he ordered.  
  
Kyle shook his head stubbornly. This was the only thing he had left. The only _sliver_ of dignity that he could possibly hold onto. He wasn’t going to resort himself to begging for Damien to fuck him. There was no conceivable way he’d let that happen. He screeched as Damien’s claws dug into his scalp, hair ripping from roots as he was hoisted back onto his knees by his curls. “I-I...won’t,” he gasped, eyes clenched tightly and teeth grating against each other in agony.  
  
Damien glared at him, jostling him roughly. “Look at me, Pup,” he demanded. Kyle’s bloodshot eyes hesitantly opened up, staring into Damien’s furious gaze. “I have you,” he said simply. “I _own_ you.”  
  
“No,” he rasped. “You _stole_ me. You will _never_ -” he stopped as Damien’s fist slammed into his mouth. He grimaced, spitting out blood starting to trickle from his sliced lip. He felt his face swelling and gulped. “I _won’t_.” he said again.  
  
The demon was nearly beside himself in rage and delight. He had him so close that he could taste his submission. He could feed off of the waning energy that Kyle’s body was expending. But still, that stubborn piece of him just would _not_ splinter off like the rest of him. “I...” he began, pressing Kyle down into the floor once again and waiting for those reddened eyes to find his again. “Have _broken_ you. You need to realize this.”  
  
Kyle stared at him for an obscene amount of time and shook his head. “You haven’t,” he trembled. He knew he was close to that point, but he hadn’t been brought down to his final standoff just yet.  
  
Damien rolled his eyes, grabbing Kyle around the throat and tossing him across the floor once again. He watched his pet land with a pathetic yelp and shook his head. “Crawl back to me,” he ordered. Kyle shakily worked himself onto his quivering, aching limbs, forcing himself to move forward. Damien watched the display with a quirk of his lips. Crawling like the little animal he craved, it was delectable. Kyle coughed lightly, making it back to Damien’s legs and nearly collapsing in front of him. “I think we’re having another lesson today,” he said dryly. “And it’s going to be a combination of speech and behavior. Do you understand?”  
  
Kyle’s head dropped further and he began to quake. “Yes, Master,” he whispered.  
  
“Good boy,” he muttered before beginning to pace in front of him. “Each question is to be answered in full, understand?”  
  
“Yes. I understand, Master,” he mumbled with a sigh.  
  
“Good,” he nodded curtly. “Tell me, do you love my cock, Pup?”  
  
Kyle shut his eyes and nodded. “Yes, Master. I love your cock.”  
  
Damien knelt down and Kyle ducked lower, the noirette staring into the swamped curls atop his pretty, disobedient head. “Then why won’t you beg for it?”  
  
Because it was all he had left. Because it was the one remaining battle he had. Because he didn’t want to lose himself in this mess.  
  
“I...I don’t have an answer, Master,” he said, wincing when Damien grabbed the back of his collar and pulled, his back arching and forcing his attention back to the front.  
  
“Strike one,” he warned.  
  
Kyle gulped, grating his lip worriedly. “I-I really don’t-”  
  
“Two,” he glared, tightening his grip around the collar.  
  
Glassy eyes narrowed and the shackled boy’s frustration peaked. “Because. I. Hate. You. _Master_.” he hissed out. He didn’t care anymore. He was going to lose no matter _what_ he said. He was going to at least attempt to go down fighting yet again.   
  
Damien stared at him and shook his head. “Sometimes, you are rewarded for your honesty...this is not one of those times, Pup.”  
  
“What a shock,” he muttered, squeaking as Damien left the collar in lieu of grabbing around his throat.   
  
“For such rebellion, we’re going to learn a _new_ behavior today. How’s that sound?” He didn’t wait for an answer, too busy clutching at Kyle’s neck to give him a chance. “You’re going to punish yourself.” Kyle’s face fell confusedly and he chuckled. “You have a choice, since I am so giving,” he drawled. He dropped his neck and Kyle crashed onto the floor, looking up at him worriedly. Damien reached forward and grabbed one of his chained wrists. “Either you break your own arm...or you are going to use your uninjured little fingers to prepare yourself for my cock. Which will it be?” he asked. Kyle’s face dropped further into horror, his jaw trembling.  
  
“I-I...I’m not...” he stammered, trying to think of a way out of this situation. “Please d-don’t-”   
  
“That’s _not_ an option,” he cut him off sharply. “Choose _now_.”  
  
Kyle looked at him and his face fell into a stoney line. He knew his choice, and he knew he was definitely making the wrong one. But it didn’t matter. This was what he had left, and Damien wasn’t going to take it from him so easily. “I’ll break my arm, Master,” he said monotonously. Damien smirked. He figured he’d be so unapt to take the easy route. Typical puppy behavior.  
  
“All right then,” he nodded. “And tell me just how you’re going to.”  
  
Kyle blinked, looking around. “I’ll...um...” He didn’t know. He wasn’t exactly the expert in torture like the monster in front of him, and his strong disdain for performing such an action certainly wasn’t aiding his thought process.  
  
Damien smirked. “Okay. I’ll _tell_ you what to do and you’ll do it. How’s that?” Kyle gulped and nodded. He grinned, “I’m going to float you up there,” he pointed up towards the ceiling. “And I’m going to drop you and you’re going to try to catch yourself on your arm, do you understand?” Kyle blanched but nodded, completely unnerved by the nonchalance in his tone. “Oh, and you’re left handed, yes?”  
  
“Yes, Master,” he forced out.  
  
“Then you are to land on your _right_ arm. Understood?”  
  
“Yes, Master,” he repeated, whimpering as he felt himself being lifted into the air, his nails automatically trying to claw down into the stone to make himself stay put. He bit his lip as he was raised a good twenty feet off the ground, his chains weighing his arms down. He began to hyperventilate, wondering if he should pussy out and just take the more humiliating option.  
  
“Get ready, Pup,” Damien sang. Kyle hiccuped down some horrified breaths, reaching towards the ground with his right arm, facing his palm towards the floor. He felt himself beginning to drop and shut his eyes, feeling himself flying down towards the ground, the wind rushing through his hair. He gritted his teeth, the impact sudden and beyond the pain he’d imagined.   
  
He screamed at the clear sound of bone snapping as he collapsed in a heap on the stone on top of his wounded limb. Tears began falling automatically, an instantaneous anguish shooting through his wrist, arm and elbow. He screeched through his teeth, turning onto his back and cupping his injured arm, gulping down irritated sobs. He felt a warm, sticky solution on his holding hand and looked down, his face turning a ghastly white at the clear piece of his ulna jutting through his skin. Damien watched him trying to scream, unable to work the sound out, too busy caught up in every emotion he could possibly experience in such a situation. He grinned. “Good doggie,” he praised.  
 Kyle couldn’t hear him, couldn’t hear anything except his heart pounding like a barrage of timpani in his ears. His head fell back onto the ground and he hissed, alternating between trying to put pressure on the wound and trying not to agitate the bone that was being assaulted by the damp air of his prison. His brain found itself picking up fuzzy memories of that damn first aid class his mother made him go to after he had to give Ike the heimlich for some reason. Bones in open air can get infected. You can die from infection or lose the limb entirely. But Kyle couldn’t die. His mind was in a frenzy, wondering if he’d lose his arm, if Damien did this to him on purpose to begin removing his limbs to make him an immobile ass and mouth for him to play with as he pleased.  
  
Damien knelt down beside him and chuckled, yanking Kyle’s hand off his wound. He grinned maliciously, placing his hand over the jutting bone and slamming it back down into his arm. He’d never heard someone scream so loudly in his life, and every moment of the note was a pure symphony to his ears. Kyle’s voice cut out at the end of his cry, throat going dangerously hoarse as he tried to fight off the stabbing pain erupting through his arm. He was sweating, skin waxy and blood rushing out of him alarmingly fast. He couldn’t help but believe for a moment that this was going to be it. This was the moment he was going to go catatonic and Damien had his personal doll to use as he pleased. He wanted to vomit, he wanted to cry...he wanted to go home. He wanted his mom to fuss over him, he wanted Stan and Kenny to annoy him by being overly helpful, he wanted Cartman to rip on him for being a ‘clumsy Jew’. He wanted the world, and his world was unfortunately in Damien’s hands.  
  
“So good. It would’ve been so much easier to just do the alternative though, wouldn’t it?” Damien taunted, stroking over the wound hungrily. He wouldn’t let Kyle suffer too long, if he behaved at least. After all, he made sure nothing more than his arm could possibly be injured in such a nasty fall, he had to keep his property protected. He was more than equipped to heal this bone with nothing more than a moment of his time, but he wanted to see if Kyle fractured more than just cartilage. “Pup, answer me,” he said firmly. Kyle sobbed and shook his head frantically. No. No he won this one. Excruciating or not, Kyle had _won_ again. Damien smirked, letting the boy revel in his imaginary victory. “Well, believe that all you want, but you’re going to be doing the latter regardless.”  
  
Kyle’s eyes shot open, gulping down shallow wisps of air. “W-what?” he barely managed to whisper.  
 “You heard me,” he cocked his brow amusedly. “Now, how familiar are you with anatomy, my dear Kyle?” The redhead was silent so he pressed on. “Tell me, what happens when someone injures the lumbar portion of their spinal cord? Hm?” He watched him expectantly.  
  
Kyle coughed out a few more tears and clenched his eyes again. “L-legs...don’t...work,” he hissed out.  
  
“Very good,” he nodded. “Such a smart little bulldog,” he said, stroking back his sweaty bangs. “As of now, I’ve allowed you to crawl out of the _kindness_ of my heart,” he smirked. “But a quick little stab right here,” he crept his hand under the arch of Kyle’s back, rubbing along the near-bottom vertebrae of his spine, “and you won’t be moving at all. Do you understand?” He nodded, his mind unable to comprehend the pain and the expectations he was being given. Too much. It was just too much! “Now,” Damien sat back. “On your knees.”  
  
Kyle quickly battled over his options. Broken arm would heal, paralysis would most likely not. He whined, trying to use his thrown off balance and set himself back up. He struggled with his good arm, Damien watching in pure diversion as he managed to sit himself up and swing onto his knees. He clutched his broken arm preciously towards his chest, looking at Damien with such pitiable eyes it nearly consumed the demon. “Down,” he pointed to the floor. Kyle sniffled, slowly putting his hand on the ground and inching his body out. He genially lowered his front half onto the floor, careful to avoid putting any pressure on his oozing arm. He hissed as it made contact with the floor, lowering his head and chest down onto the stone, keeping his right arm slung uselessly under his raised stomach.  
  
Damien put a hand on the back of Kyle’s neck to keep him steady. “Hold out your hand,” he ordered. Kyle sniffled, doing so and cringing at the feeling of Damien’s syrupy lubrication being smeared onto his hand and coated around his fingers. “Now, prepare yourself for your master.” He cooed. “Unless...you beg me to do it for you,” he grinned slyly. Kyle froze. This was it. This was what was going to fucking kill him, and not in the way he wanted. He slammed his eyes shut, feeling the absolute agony of his arm, the bruises lining his hips, the flesh torn on his triceps. His head was absolutely pounding, his body drained of voice and fluid from his sobbing. He was dancing with the Devil, and he was unfortunately falling into step. He knew though. Kyle knew well enough there was only one option; Only one way to make it so Damien couldn’t complete the song.   
  
With a shaking hand, he reached behind himself, stubbornly turning his face away from Damien as he slowly inserted a finger into his entrance. Damien watched with a wide grin on his face. The alternative choice was lovely, but _watching_ Kyle submit was always just a tad better than hearing it. Kyle stumbled a bit, letting out pained groans and Damien clutched onto him tighter. “Good boy,” he cooed, holding him steady and watching Kyle’s finger disappearing into himself. “Add another,” he ordered. Kyle whimpered, but did as told, very genially working in his index finger. He hissed, that humiliating stretch feeling five times as large coming from being forced to do it himself. He scissored the fingers alongside each other, a part of him amazed at how fucking warm it was before reality jostled him back, letting his broken arm slide on the ground with an excruciating drag.  
  
“One more, Pup,” Damien nearly jumped in childish glee. Kyle bit his lip, struggling to work in his ring finger, slick and shaking. He gulped as it slowly slid in beside its fellow digits. He was somewhat amazed that he wasn’t ripping in half, knowing well enough that Damien’s cock was thicker than the three of them, but it was still a horrifying thought for him to have in the moment. Everything was already bad enough as it was. He continued working himself, groaning as he brushed against that damn sensitive node that Damien hit now and again, feeling a rush of heady pleasure that was easily beaten down by his agony.  
  
He almost felt a sliver of relief as Damien ripped his hand out of him and moved behind him, holding him up by his hair. He didn’t care. His personal humiliation was over. He hissed as Damien thrust into him, giving an occasional cry here and there with each violent propulsion, but he focused on letting Damien hold him and grasping his broken arm. He looked down at the ground with teary eyes as Damien used him to his liking, letting out a heavy, moist sigh. He knew. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. He let a tear roll down his nose and cheek, feeling Damien’s cock pushing into him faster than he could possibly keep up with in his disoriented state.  
  
Maybe, he thought, maybe losing would be his best option.  
  
  
  



	18. Chapter 18

**Day 570**  
  
His prison was eerily quiet, and he couldn’t help but cherish it. No Damien, no nothing. Just himself and his pile of food. He sighed, looking down at his broken arm tiredly. The wound from his bone splitting through was disgusting after a day of no treatment. Blood was dried and cracking around his body from where it spilt on himself and he vaguely wondered if Damien would send his little minions to come clean him off any time soon. Clutching his arm to his chest, he bent down at the waist and grabbed himself a piece of meat, chewing slowly. A part of him was marveled that he was able to eat raw meat now without wanting to vomit. It still wasn’t particularly pleasant to partake in, but he’d learned that it was much better than nothing.  
  
As he swallowed, he couldn’t help but wince. His throat was raw between himself screaming and Damien deciding that he hadn’t had enough abuse and using his mouth to his liking for hours the day before. Kyle wondered if it was better that way, if he should just keep himself silent unless Damien spoke to him first. He sighed, knowing that it’d kill a part of him to give in to something that Damien was determined to get in the first place, but he knew that it was just one of a long list of failures that he’d procured in his time.  
  
He looked up at the dark void of his ceiling and tongued over his lips. Why him? He’d been asking himself the question for so long, but it just didn’t seem to help him in the least. Out of eight _billion_ people living, countless dead...he happened to be the one that the antichrist wanted to get his greedy claws on. A middle class-bred nerdy Jew from bumfuck Colorado. It just didn’t make any sense. Kyle had always been one for measuring statistics, for searching for the logical sides of his problems. By all accounts, this made absolutely no sense. From what he could figure, it was mathematically _impossible_ that he’d be the one enslaved in a dungeon. But he knew that at this point, the logistics didn’t matter. The proof was there, chained around his wrists and putting way too much pressure on his broken bone. He chuckled humorlessly, remembering that once Kenny had told him that he had a knack for defying the odds when it came down to it. It was a crying shame that his ‘talent’ turned on him so drastically.  
  
Kyle was no fool, he knew himself. He knew his limits. He knew that he was right on his edge. Damien had worn his temper, his anger, his rebellious nature down to a nub. Anymore he could only work out a brief flash of his typical smartassed self before it was replaced with inexplicable fear. He felt such shame in that, knowing that he’d come into this situation guns blazing and ready to fight Damien off at any costs. Instead, he’d now found himself cowering when a clawed hand was raised, when Damien’s voice increased a mere decibel. The time of him full-out assaulting the demon had long since passed. Kyle hated more than anything to admit his shortcomings. But he knew that Damien could read the truth loud and clear: He was terrified of what the demon could do to him.   
  
His hand absentmindedly ran over his bone wound and he shuddered. He’d been through too much trauma to even remember at this point. Cut, bit, poisoned, thrown, hit, starved, raped...He shut his eyes, the list continuing in his mind. So much. So _much_ that he didn’t even know human bodies could withstand without giving out in some way. He looked at his uninjured hand, flexing it a bit in front of him. Was he even human anymore? He sighed. No. No he wasn’t. Physically, maybe. But in every other way, he wasn’t. As much as he hated to admit it, he’d become a complete doll. Damien’s toy. His... _dog_. He shuddered at the word, feeling that damnable collar of his pressing against his neck. He hated it with every fiber of his being, wanted so badly to tear it off and toss it across the room...but he knew Damien wouldn’t go back on his promise. He’d lose sleep for eternity, and although he was finding himself far past the point of fighting back, he had to hope that one day he’d have his chance to make it out on his own.  
  
It’d have to be on his own. There was no one else he could count on. Not Stan, not Kenny, _definitely_ not Cartman. His family probably didn’t even know where he was unless Stan and Ken told them, they probably thought he was abducted by someone who wanted money. They probably _all_ thought he was long dead and gone. He wondered briefly if maybe they’d had a memorial service for him, one filled with classmates and friends and distant relatives. He was curious as to how often they thought of him, how often they cried or even just stopped and felt a heaviness in their heart. A part of him hoped that it was often, but he knew that grieving could only last for so long, even from family. He could’ve been down here for five years and never known it, and that was plenty of time for them all to move right on with their lives.  
  
Kyle sniffed, looking back at the ceiling and shaking his head. There was one other that he’d figured out he couldn’t count on. Someone who wouldn’t answer his prayers, someone who no doubt _knew_ the pure torment he was going through. But He just didn’t _care_. After all, who gives a shit if one poor little Jew is suffering at the hands of the Devil when there’s so much torment going on on Earth, right? Kyle couldn’t believe he was finding himself here yet again, completely losing faith in what he’d always held so dear to his heart. God had _always_ been his voice of reason, something to turn to when things got a little rough and showed him the light. Here, however, in his dank prison as he was shackled and broken inside and out...there was no room for God. Kyle had no more patience for the one thing that could’ve easily saved him, that could have rescued him from his oppression and either sent him home or let him go on his merry way to Heaven. It left a large ache in his heart, a void that he knew would never be filled again. He’d worked through this problem so many damn times in his life. Time and again he found himself wandering as a lost soul to the synagogue, finding comfort in the rabbi’s kind words before finding himself on the path of light again. He knew though, this time, he didn’t have someone to run to. He no longer had that voice of reason, not from anyone else, but most worrying of all, no longer from himself.  
  
His fingers traced over his scarred words, looking down at them with dimmed eyes. They were disgusting. Raised, jagged wounds finally healed over, displaying the phrases in a cruel taunt. His own skin had become his master’s canvas. His own flesh spelled out his doom, his ownership...He blinked away silent tears, looking at the deep tattoo on his chest, his fingernail scraping bitterly into his ribcage across Damien’s signature. He had no idea what any of these words meant. He just knew that it was what Damien used to claim him, to tell the world that he belonged to him now and he wasn’t going to be getting out anytime soon.  
  
He grunted, clutching at his chest as it began burning that low fire once again. He still couldn’t figure out just what it was that was happening. He vaguely remembered his and Damien’s first encounter after his sickening ritual, how the demon told him that he had a part of his soul inside him. Was that it? Was it finally starting to take hold over him? Kyle couldn’t say he’d be too surprised. Every little task that Damien trained him to do, he felt himself getting weaker, felt everything that made Kyle who he was fading off into a far corner of his mind. Memories of home were starting to become diluted, words were beginning to take a lot more effort to work out, at least, words that Damien hadn’t forced upon him.  
  
Kyle couldn’t fight it anymore. He could tell himself over and over again that he was still Kyle, that no amount of beatings or rituals could change that fact...but it was all for naught. He knew he was losing the battle for himself. He knew it was only a matter of time before he was true to Damien’s word, craving his companionship, looking to him for all his answers. He’d been the only contact he’d had in such a long time, he was learning Damien’s buttons and how to keep himself out of the line of fire. Maybe it was time to start putting all of that to good use.   
  
He didn’t want to submit. Kyle Broflovski was never one to buckle and bow to his enemies...but this situation was a world of difference from telling dumbass adults how to fucking behave or fighting against Cartman’s bigotry. This was a whole other ballpark, and himself and Damien were the only ones on the field. He was down and no time left on the clock, no chance for any extra innings. He’d have to cave at some point, and a part of him couldn’t help but accept the fact that the sooner he did, the sooner he’d get away from the abuse. The sooner he broke, the sooner he’d just lose himself in his ‘duties’ or whatever Damien referred to them as. He bit his lip, nails scraping down against his thigh and trying to peel away dried blood from the tender flesh. Losing his mind was the last thing Kyle wanted. He knew if he really wanted to, he could probably keep his stubborn self going for another few years...but he didn’t think that he wanted that. He’d much rather just be a mindless toy for Damien rather than having his wits about him, knowing every single horrible deed done to his body.  
  
He dropped his head and sniffled, his eyes burning and his broken limb throbbing. He was here. He was right where Damien wanted him. Broken and used, tired and unwilling to keep fighting what he knew was his horrid fate lying before him. Damien’s bouts of what he called ‘kindness’ were going to be the closest thing he ever got to having love back in his life. He knew it was nowhere near the same thing. He knew it would never be the same warm, gentle embrace of compassion that his family and friends so often offered him...but it was all he had to look forward to. Petting his hair, letting him eat and sleep, calling him ‘affectionate’ things...Kyle felt tears leaking down his face, making no efforts to stop their descent. Was this truly it? Were those terrible things all he had to look forward to for the rest of eternity?  
  
“You’re finally learning, Pup,” Damien’s voice appeared. Kyle shuddered, turning and looking at the demon exhaustively. He thought he finally was getting a break. So much for that lovely theory. “Are you ready to submit to me?” Damien ventured, his voice brimming with excitement as he walked towards him.  
  
 Kyle looked away and shut his eyes tightly, feeling Damien’s claws gently cupping his chin and turning him back to look at him. “I’m...” he faltered, his mind, body, and soul in an all-out war. He didn’t know what to do.  
  
“Tell me the one thing that you’ve refused for so long,” Damien ordered softly, stroking his cheek with care. “And you will finally be treated as the beautiful pedigree that you are.” Kyle shuddered again, his hair standing on end at the term. He sat there in silence for a good few minutes, letting his body’s war rage on. He didn’t know what to do. Lose every ounce of himself with one phrase so easily? Or find himself suffering because of his copious pride? Damien waited patiently for once, knowing that no matter which option Kyle went towards, he had his plans. The grin couldn’t be wiped from his face as the redhead battled with himself, those tears still falling down his luscious cheeks.  
  
Kyle took a deep breath. He couldn’t. Not yet. He shook his head. “I...I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t fight you...I _know_ I can’t win...but I just can’t say it.”  
  
Damien nodded, feeling no irate fury at his words. He knew this was killing the boy, and he knew that he was going to win. It was just going to take more time to get there than was to his liking. “Very well,” he said, grabbing Kyle’s broken arm, making the boy hoarsely cry out in pain. His eyes gave a quick ember flash, Kyle’s bone mending immediately. Kyle gulped in shock, looking at the demon with confused eyes. He yelped as his chains yanked his arms up, stretching them diagonally from his body, another chain interlocking in his collar yet again and holding his head up, being propped on his knees. Damien cupped his chin, staring deep into Kyle’s bleary eyes. “You will stay as such until you say as I wish,” he said simply. He flicked Kyle’s mended arm, “I didn’t want it permanently damaged,” he explained with a smirk. “Once you give yourself to me, it’ll be of use.” Kyle just gave a shaky breath, watching Damien in silence. “For every day you refuse to say it, I will come back and use your body, I will beat you senseless,” he promised. “Do you understand? Answer fully.”  
  
“Yes, Master,” he croaked quietly, knowing deep down that this battle wasn’t going to last long. He’d already played all his best cards and Damien had stolen the deck entirely.  
  
“Good boy,” he murmured, petting his hair before getting to his feet and walking out of the prison without another word. Kyle watched after him, his heart sinking slowly in his chest. That fire was still burning, trying to take his entire body down in a smoldering pile of ashes for Damien to remold as he wished.  
  
Kyle knew at this point, it was inevitable. All he could do was wait for his pride to die off, and for Damien to finally complete their waltz.  
  


* * *

  
  
**Present Day - Week 21**  
  
Sitting side by side in their only haven, Kenny and Kyle stared up together at the ornately painted ceiling of the synagogue. Kenny’s eyes kept flickering to Kyle’s, whose were noticeably saddened and drooping. Little bits and pieces of Kyle had come back every day they came here for the past week, and a handful had popped up while at home. It was a massive relief, but also painful to watch. The blonde knew that this was all starting to get to Kyle, that who he was and who he had become were starting to clash over which side to go with. Kyle mumbled something and Ken jolted back into attention from his pitying. “What?”  
  
Kyle looked over at him and his shoulders sunk. “Why...d-didn’t God h-help me?” he whispered.   
  
Kenny’s face dropped and he scooted closer to him on the bench, gently wrapping his arm around Kyle’s shaking shoulders. “He probably just couldn’t,” he said softly.  
  
Kyle lied his head on his shoulder and sniffled, looking back up at the ceiling with glistening eyes. “Maybe He d-didn’t...want t-to.”  
  
The blonde sighed, leaning his head atop Kyle’s. There was nothing he could say to make God’s absence from his situation okay, but Kyle needed to hear _something_ to make the whole thing more tolerable. “You how they say God doesn’t give you more than you can handle?” he winced. “Maybe you’re just stronger than everyone else.” Kyle looked at him skeptically and he continued. “I mean...I don’t know anyone else who would’ve come out of this shit like you, Ky,” he said honestly. “Anyone else would’ve just accepted what happened and not tried to fight to get better.” He shrugged, “It’s more than I woulda done, that’s for damn sure.” Kyle was silent, just nuzzling into the familiar scent of Kenny and trying to let his mind calm itself down. The last two weeks had been a whirlwind of emotions and confusion for the boy. Kenny was becoming his ship as Damien tried to be the anchor and pull them both to a grinding halt. Kyle couldn’t help but wonder, however, why Damien hadn’t just taken him back to his prison. He’d figure that’d be Damien’s first response to such a situation. He was grateful that it hadn’t come to that just yet.  
  
Kenny stared at his scarlet curls, stroking his arm lightly. Satan told him what he had to do, but he wasn’t exactly sure how to go about doing it, and if Kyle told him no, he’d stop in a goddamn instant. Unfortunately, this was the only way to figure things out according to the Devil, so he’d have to _try_ at least. He cleared his throat. “Ky? Can we go to that room we have your therapies in?” Kyle looked at him confusedly but nodded, allowing Kenny to help him onto his feet. He whimpered and gritted his teeth, clinging onto Kenny’s parka for dear life as they slowly made their way down the aisle and off towards a long hallway. Kenny gave the rabbi a quick wave as they passed him standing off to the other side of the building, Schwartz smiling gently. Watching Kyle improving had been a treat, and he’d learned that the blonde helping him was his quickest way to finding himself again.  
  
The boys slowly lumbered their way down the hall to the back room, each step a pure fire in Kyle’s legs that Kenny could practically feel the heat emanating off of. He led him into the room, slowly closing and locking the door behind him. Kyle looked up at him with wide, questioning eyes. “W-what is it?” he asked softly.  
  
Kenny blushed and cleared his throat. “Look, i-it’s something that...that Satan told me we had to do to...figure out if I can save you,” he winced. Kyle watched, completely entranced with the idea. “But...it’s...gonna sound like I’m taking advantage of your situation,” he looked down guiltily.  
  
Kyle blinked, “W-what?”  
  
He groaned, leaning his head back and looking up at the florescent light above them. He knew this was going to be fucking awkward. This was _not_ how he imagined this moment would go all those years ago. “Satan said...we had...to sleep together,” he cringed. “I-I don’t know why. He just said it had to happen. And it has to happen here where Damien can’t get to you. But if you say no then that’s fine with me because I know this is a really weird thing for me to say and I don’t want you to think that I’m okay with taki-” he stopped as Kyle put his hand up over Kenny’s mouth. Kyle stared into Kenny’s eyes steadily, searching for any hint of deceit, any indication that Ken was indeed taking things too far for the sake of just easily being able to. He visibly relaxed when he saw no such connotation.  
  
He lowered his hand and took a deep breath. Satan apparently knew what he’d been up to, how he’d been sleeping with other boys on _some_ kind of mission from Damien. Maybe Satan had the answer to it all, and maybe Kenny was just the messenger. “Okay,” he nodded.  
  
Kenny stared at him in a level of shock. “Ky, are you sure? I really don’t want to like...upset you or hurt you or whatever.”  
  
He shook his head, “You...w-would never...hurt me,” he echoed weakly. Ken gave him a small one back and Kyle stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Kenny’s waist and pushing his head against his chest. Ken blinked before wrapping back around him, feeling Kyle shivering a bit in nerves.   
  
“Hey, hey,” he said softly. “We don’t have to do a damn thing, Ky.”  
  
He clutched around him tighter. “Yes we do,” he whispered. “I-I trust you.”  
  
Ken nodded silently, waiting for Kyle’s trembling to calm before slowly moving his head down, kissing his neck gently. He felt the breath hitch in his throat and couldn’t help but smile against his warm skin, giving him gentle nips along his jugular. He felt Kyle’s weak legs trying to give way under him and pulled back a bit. “Here,” he whispered hotly against his skin. He grabbed his hips and helped turn him around towards the low-set conference table. He picked him up and set him down on top of it, pulling back and looking at Kyle’s glimmering eyes. “You’re sure?” he asked again.  
  
Kyle reached up, grabbing his hood and pulling him down, pressing their lips together as forcefully as he could manage. He opened his mouth automatically for the blonde, letting their tongues collide furiously as he moved his legs to go around Kenny’s hips, pulling him flush against himself. Ken moaned softly, his hands going down and gently running up and down Kyle’s thighs. A part of them both had been aching for this for so long, but there was still some hesitation. There was the ever-looming threat of Damien, Kyle’s warbling vulnerability, and a million questions as to why they _had_ to do this clouding over them. Together, a silent pact was forged. Forget the problems, forget the questions. Just let it happen and go from there. They both wanted it, _craved_ it. They wanted to get just what Damien had denied from the both of them for years.  
  
Kenny’s hands trailed up, zipping Kyle’s jacket down. His fingers lightly caressed down his shirt before pushing back up underneath, tickling Kyle’s milky skin. He grasped around Kyle’s waist, fingernails lightly digging into the flesh as Kyle began work on his own jacket with trembling hands. Kyle couldn’t make heads or tails of it all. He’d done this with so many people now, it’d practically become his profession...but this was different. Even when he was set to go after Kenny weeks ago, these nerves were still there. Something about it made him weaker than usual, made his heart palpitate and his palms sweat. It was a wonderful feeling of delight and panic that spun his head around. He’d been waiting far too long to feel such a strong set of emotions once again.  
  
Kenny’s hands brushed over his blooded tattoo and the redhead shuddered but pressed through, moving his arms back and slipping his jacket down behind him on the table. Kenny grunted softly into his mouth, fumbling to throw his parka down on the ground before reaching up and cupping Kyle’s head, pulling him in closer. Kyle tasted like mint and coffee, something utterly delectable in the moment and a taste he’d be craving for the rest of his life. He bit lightly on Kyle’s lip before pulling back, grinning at the blush that had overtaken the boy’s entire face, his lips moist and swollen from his own. The situation was beyond bizarre, but this was how he always saw Kyle. A blushing, shaking mess. At least, fantasy-wise. Kenny always had the suspicion that Kyle would be as feisty and stubborn in bed as he used to be in the outside world. Those suspicions nearly came to fruition at full force as Kyle lunged up, aching for Kenny’s touch again and slamming their mouths back together. Their hands each tangled up in the other’s hair, pressing into each other, breathless and letting every other issue melt away between the both of them. Kenny’s hormones began to take the reins, reaching down and pulling Kyle’s shirt up his chest. Kyle broke and lifted his arms, letting him tear the fabric off before reclaiming his mouth.  
  
 Kenny chuckled, pulling back but a hair. “Someone’s eager,” he teased.  
  
He watched in surprise at a flash of Kyle’s old smirk broke and a brave hand reached down and cupped Kenny’s groin gently, prompting a low rumble to break through his throat. “You’re one...to talk,” he laughed breathlessly.  
  
He shrugged, taking a shuddery breath at Kyle’s hand massaging against his growing bulge. “Can’t help it,” he licked his lips. “Been dreamin’ about this for years,” he winked. Kyle smiled, kissing his chin and moving down his neck, teeth scraping lovingly against his clavicle. Kenny licked his lips, leaning down and kissing Kyle’s shoulder, eyes unable to stop staring at the mess of his back. He narrowed his eyes slightly. Burns and claw marks, clear signs of Damien’s fangs, more scars...he shuddered, unable to help himself as he wrapped his arms around Kyle and huddled down into the crook of his neck. “I’m so sorry, Kyle,” he whispered. “I’m _so_ sorry.”  
  
Kyle’s teeth and hand stopped and he looked at Kenny confusedly. “For w-what?”  
  
Ken pulled back and Kyle felt his stomach dropping at the pure melancholy of his eyes. “You went through so fucking much,” he said softly, brushing Kyle’s hair off of his face. “I wish I could help you...I really do. I just can’t _imagine_ what you went through.”  
  
Kyle stared at him for a moment, taking a deep breath. He looked down at his scarred body, stealing a glance back at Kenny before frowning, using his aching muscles to their full extent and ripping off the blonde’s t-shirt, throwing it aside. Ken looked at him blankly and Kyle’s face set in a determined line. “I’m...not...broken,” he said firmly, taking Ken’s hand and placing it over his heart, letting him feel it beating its rapid pace. He placed his own over Kenny’s and bit his lip. “You d-die...and c-come back. I d-did, too,” he whispered. “Both of us...are t-the devil’s...toy,” he winced. “ _Your_ s-scars...are gone.” he bit his lip. “Only d-difference.” Kenny stared at him in awe, his eyes glistening over and his heart beating wildly under Kyle’s hand.  
  
They stood still for a moment before every ounce of passion came screaming back towards them and Kenny rushed down, capturing his lips again and leading him down onto his back on the table. Kyle moaned, his chest arching up into Kenny’s, his thighs tightening around his slender hips. Kenny pressed his hips against the boy’s, both of them gasping at the incredible friction rushing through them. Ken’s hands blindly fumbled back, snaring Kyle’s shoes and socks and throwing them ungracefully around the room. Kyle’s arms threaded up around Kenny’s neck, holding him close, feeling those nerves dying down. He wanted this. He wanted this more than he’d wanted _anything_ in so damn long. He leaned his head back and moaned as Kenny’s lips moved down to his neck, tracing along the skin and sending eager prickles ghosting over his body. He felt Kenny beginning to undo his jeans and squirmed a bit with a whimper, almost unwilling to be naked yet again. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that this was Kenny with his gentle hands and loving kisses. Not Damien throwing him down and doing whatever he wanted.  
  
He let himself wander in his mantra, lost to the world until a warmth suddenly wrapped around his cock. He arched up and let out a quiet, surprised cry. He glanced down, seeing Kenny’s head bobbing along his skin, his fingers trailing around his chest and down his waist, tearing his jeans off and letting them crumple on the ground. Kyle’s head fell back once again, mouth agape. He hadn’t experienced this before, being the one receiving the pleasure in such a way...it was beyond what he’d ever imagined. The hot wetness of Kenny’s tongue played around his throbbing dick, tingles shooting up through Kyle’s system. “K-Ken...” he breathed out, his hands going down on their own accord and tangling in the golden locks moving along. He felt Kenny let out a low chuckle around his cock and shuddered, a strong hand coming down and cupping his balls, squeezing and touching with a glorious precision.  
  
A soft snapping sound invaded past Kenny’s soft gagging noises and he glanced down, seeing a bottle in Kenny’s hand. He gulped, leaning his head back again, knowing what was coming next. ‘ _It’s Kenny, you’re safe. He won’t hurt you_ ,’ he assured himself as he could hear the slick sound of lube being washed around Kenny’s fingers, his mouth never faltering from Kyle’s cock.  
  
Ken watched the boy carefully for any resistance. He knew there was only one way to make this all okay: to finally let Kyle have his own enjoyment. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that Damien didn’t give two fucks about what Kyle ever felt. Judging by Kyle’s shocked and sensitive reactions, he harbored a guess that this was the first time the kid had had any pleasure in this situation. He very slowly maneuvered his finger down, lightly pressing against Kyle’s hole. Kyle bit his lip but nodded, clenching his eyes shut and focusing on Kenny’s tongue drawing circles around his head. A slow, gentle finger slid inside of him and Kyle gasped lightly but made no irritated movements. Kenny played around with the one for a bit before genially working in his index finger.  
 Kyle’s head was spinning, the feeling of being filled and a mouth wrapped around him nearly over-stimulating. He almost didn’t notice as Kenny pushed in his last finger, all three of them thrusting together in a wonderful way. Kyle cried out as Ken found his target, jerking his fingers up to his prostate and watching amusedly as Kyle’s entire body tensed in ecstasy. “Oh god,” he gulped out, staring at the ceiling. “K-Ken...p-please...” he bit his lip. Kenny smiled, pulling off of Kyle’s cock with an audible pop, giving a final swipe of the tongue over his slit.   
  
He leaned over, fingers still pressed deep inside of him. Kyle stared at him, green eyes darkened with lust, that air of confusion that seemed to linger around him seemed dissipated for the moment. “You’re sure?” he asked one more time. Kyle nodded briskly, reaching up and grabbing his hair, pulling their lips together once more. Kenny moaned, ripping his fingers out of Kyle and shuddering at the redhead’s whine at the loss. “I gotcha, Babe,” he chuckled, undoing his jeans and grabbing the lube, blindly preparing himself as he focused on digging his tongue into Kyle’s mouth. He grunted, lifting Kyle’s hips and sliding him further down on the table, pushing between his legs and taking a deep breath. He slowly guided his cock towards Kyle’s waiting entrance, shuddering at the heat he could already feel. “Okay, get ready,” he whispered into his mouth. He slowly began pushing his head into the tight muscle and felt Kyle go rigid, immediately stopping himself. “Hurts?” he asked breathlessly.  
  
Kyle shook his head frantically, bucking his hips up to keep him moving. Kenny blinked, but did as instructed, genially working himself all the way down inside of Kyle, his mind exploding at the concept of finally obtaining what he’d been after for so long. Kyle let out a heavy moan, feeling such a wonderful heat from Kenny he nearly didn’t know what to do with himself. This was so different from any other time, any other person. It still wasn’t comfortable by a long shot, but his body was more than welcoming of Kenny’s cock, endorphins shooting off like crazy, making him crave even more. He felt Kenny’s balls press against him and licked the inside of Kenny’s mouth, pressing his hips up yet again. Kenny snorted at his eagerness, compliantly giving him steady thrusts. He swallowed each of Kyle’s moans with vigor, completely entranced by the beautiful sounds coming out of that mouth.   
  
“Jesus,” he murmured against him. Kyle was just as he’d dreamed: hot and tight, his body drawing him in fervently. One hand held Kyle’s hip, the other seeming to take a mind of its own, grabbing and caressing at every inch of Kyle that it could find. Kyle’s fingers weren’t doing much better, scraping Kenny’s shoulder blades, grasping the back of his neck, feeling around his chest. It was pure chaos, a messy display of raw passion and overeager hands. It was _theirs_.  
  
Kyle’s hips rocked up against Kenny’s rhythm, shuddering as his cock brushed against the blonde’s stomach. “Kenny...” he moaned breathlessly, trying to pull him in closer. He was nearly consumed with greed and lust. He wanted all of this. He hadn’t felt so good in probably his entire life, and he knew that he needed it now more than ever. Feelings were overflowing from him, his body rendered helpless under the torrent of emotion that Kenny was pulling him through. But he welcomed it. Being helpless under Kenny’s thumb was certainly nothing to be concerned about.  
  
Kenny groaned at the utterance of his name, pulling off of Kyle’s lips and delving his head into his neck. “Fuck, Kyle,” he breathed. He nearly couldn’t control himself, his body thrusting into Kyle’s seamlessly, fitting together like an organic puzzle. He forced himself to raise his head, locking stares with the redhead and feeling his heart hitch. Flushed cheeks and gorgeously half-lidded eyes greeted him, his breath soft and fast as his body continued trying to work with his own. He wasn’t going to last long. He reached down, grasping around Kyle’s cock and watching his mouth fall agape in a silent cry of pleasure. “Come on, Babe,” he urged, licking over his lips. He felt himself climbing closer to his end and bit his lip, trying to keep his rhythm steady.  
  
Kyle squirmed under him, panting and trying desperately to clasp onto what his body was aching for. Kenny’s grating voice, his throaty moans surrounded him, tried to drown him. It was working beautifully, Kyle was out of air, his mind beginning to shut down in the overwhelming plethora of emotion. He felt his impending satisfaction cutting closer and closer almost painfully so, wanting so badly to scream to the boy thrusting into him. “Kenny...I-I’m...I-I...” he gritted his teeth and shook violently.  
  
“That’s it, Ky,” he grinned before it fell a bit, tonguing over his lips as he watched Kyle writhing. “ _Utor vestri in me magicae_ ,” he grit his teeth and stared at him carefully.  
  
“Huh?!” Kyle shot his head up at the familiar language before his eyes began glowing red, his hands flying up on their own and cupping Kenny’s face as they continued being pressed together. “ _Hoc animae pertinet ad dominum meum!_ ” he shouted. The moment of complete confusion became overrun as the both of them arched with loud cries as they came together, bodies curling into one another and frantic whispers of each other’s names slipping past their lips.  
  
Kenny slowly pulled himself out of Kyle, zipping up his pants and stumbling a bit. Kyle lied there panting before his eyes shot open in realization. What did he just do?! He sat himself up too quickly, losing his balance and tumbling off the table down onto the ground, Kenny’s cum leaking out of him. He glanced up, watching as Kenny’s eyes began to glow that horrific way and the blonde collapsed onto the ground. “NO!” Kyle screeched, forcing his overwhelmed body to clamber over beside him, turning him onto his back. He gasped as that familiar energy rushed through his body, narrowing his eyes at the unfamiliarity that followed. Pulsing.   
  
He slowly looked at his left arm, biting his lip at the veins now turned their usual dark black against his skin. What did it _mean_?! Another pulse caught his attention on his right arm and he looked, his eyes widening as he found, faintly glowing in the lights above him, similar white veins crawling up his appendage. He held both his arms in front of him, looking back and forth between the two. Something wasn’t right here. But that didn’t matter right now, Kenny did.  
  
“Kenny? Kenny you have to get up!” he shouted, taken aback by his own clarity yet again. He shook it off, pushing Kenny’s hair out of his face. “Ken? Ken please get up!” he begged. He narrowed his eyes, leaning his head down on Ken’s chest and his jaw dropping as he heard nothing within. “Ken? No!” he panicked, raking his fingers through his hair.   
  
The door slowly began to open and he panicked, grabbing Kenny’s parka and quickly throwing it over himself, concealing his nudity. Stan’s head poked in and he blinked confusedly as the boy awkwardly stepped into the room. “So...how was it?” he asked gracelessly.   
  
“What...what are you talking about?” Kyle continued to stare. “Why are you here, Stan?”  
  
Stan cleared his throat, closing the door and walking over, kneeling beside the two of them. “Kenny called me this morning, told me you two would have to uh...have fun here,” he winced. “Told me to meet you here so I could take you home and to tell you not to worry, he’ll be back in two days, this is according to plan.” He paused and rolled his eyes. “Also that he loves you. Because you two are fucking fags.”  
  
Kyle looked from him down back to Kenny, staring at his hands. “Stan?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Stan...something’s going on. Something that...that I can _do_ but...” He groaned, holding his throbbing head with light fingers. He looked over at Stan and sighed. “Was there anything else that he said? Because I’m starting to fade off again and I need to know before I’m a fucking doll.”  
  
Stan’s face dropped pitiably and he put a hand on Kyle’s shoulder. “He...he said something else, yeah...” he bit his lip. “Kyle, he said...this wouldn’t save you completely, but it was as much as you could ever get.”  
  
Kyle’s jaw dropped a bit, searching his best friend with worried eyes. He looked back at the blonde corpse on the ground and took a deep breath, zipping the parka around himself and shakily getting to his feet. He didn’t know what Kenny was up to, what Satan had in store for him, but he could only pray that it was enough. If Kenny thought it was good enough, then he would have to, too. He sniffled, wrapping himself tighter in Kenny’s jacket, surrounding himself in the familiar smell as he put up the hood and huddled down tightly, feeling Damien’s aura lashing back against him to regain its control. He stared at that pale face and smiled sadly, letting the darkness soak back into his bone without so much as a thought of resistance and whispering, “Hurry back.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Day 589**  
  
Sitting around watching new souls scurry about was something that Damien had a fondness for, so long as he didn’t actually have to be _working_ as they came in. Seeing the pure horror on their faces, the absolute terror that had been instilled within them by their churches and whatnot was beyond priceless. Damien knew as well as any veteran soul: You suffer one day past the base number per _major_ sin and then the slate was wiped clean. No major sins? You get seven days of torment, something that his father had instilled just to mock God and his little ‘perfect number’ long ago.  
  
 Of course, there was _one_ soul in Hell that’d been suffering for well over 500 days now, with nothing sinister lingering on his repertoire. Damien chuckled, considering to himself that perhaps Kyle had just inherited his own sins and was serving the punishment for his master as a good dog should.  
  
“Master Damien, I didn’t expect to see you here,” a familiar, gruff voice bellowed towards him. Damien turned, smirking at the burly, clawed demon looking at him, an amused expression over his golden face.   
  
“Sup, Gragor,” he waved nonchalantly.   
  
The demon sat beside him, watching souls being herded off and laughing throatily. “Best pastime down here _is_ watching the newbies, Sir.”  
  
He nodded in agreement. “All so vulnerable,” he feigned a pitiful pout. “All just so scared, confused that their various Gods have betrayed them. Such a shame.” Gragor shrugged, leaning back and putting his cloven feet on the railing beside Damien’s. The boy smirked. He enjoyed Gragor’s company. He had the mind to keep his talk respectful, but had earned enough of Damien’s goodwill to let his body language suggest nothing more than a small child talking to their parent’s friends. It was almost nice in a way, having someone not so afraid of him. Hell, he’d had that in Kyle but wore it down to nothing. Gragor? He had no interest in taking that away from the demon, he was as close to a friend as Damien had ever gotten. He wasn’t going to dismantle that unless Gragor tried to begin an upheaval of power. And being Damien’s right hand man, he wasn’t about to do something so foolish.  
  
Gragor’s rough voice broke through the distant screams of mortals. “My lord, may I speak freely?”  
  
He shrugged, “Go for it.” Red eyes lazily traced over, seeing if he could find anyone in the masses worth attention. Didn’t seem to be that way.  
  
“I heard of a mortal under your thumb, My lord,” he said softly. “Is that true?”  
  
The garnets flickered to the beast and he smirked at the visible recoil coming from the monster. “And if it is?”  
  
He answered with a soft smirk, “Pure curiosity, Master Damien. You know I care nothing for...them,” he waved his hand in the direction of the thrall. “I just thought you were the same.”  
  
Damien paused for a moment, once again scanning over the crowd. It was true. None of these people piqued his interest. None of them came anywhere near the kind of thrill, the kind of enchantment that Kyle had set upon him so long ago. “This one is different,” he murmured.   
  
“How’d you find them?” he inquired.  
  
Damien snorted and gave a dismissive shrug. “McCormick. Told stories about him all the time.”  
  
Gragor rolled his eyes, “That kid never shuts up, does he?” He could remember an aggravating amount of times that Satan had had him lead the blonde from place to place in Hell. Kenny would never let up, asking him where the best beer was and if dead people actually ate and all kinds of nonsensical things that made him want to tear his charcoal feathered wings out and beat him with them.  
  
“Hm,” he mused, giving an answering nod. “It’s true. But I must say, I’m thankful for it. Were he not such a babbling nitwit I never would have found Kyle. Poor boy would have just lived his life as normal and, with his behavior, gone right on to Heaven and spent eternity in the clouds,” he mocked in a high voice, waving his hand towards the deep carmine sky above them. He settled back down with a malicious chuckle. “Poor poor doggie. He would have been so happy. But now he gets to spend his time in a little prison for being so naughty.”  
  
Gragor quirked an amused brow. “Naughty huh? Stubborn I take it?”  
  
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he rolled his eyes amusedly. “It’s been a thrill, Gragor. Watching him, _breaking_ him. It’s been like some beautifully crafted challenge made only for myself and him. And I’m finally in the lead.”  
  
The demon nodded approvingly, letting his eyes wander back down to the terrors below them. “Humans are fragile,” he said dryly. “They think they’re so tough but the slightest hint of a threat has them falling to their knees and begging for mercy.”  
  
Damien grinned. “Not this one. Took him well over a year to get to that point and he’s _still_ trying to resist me. I’m still convinced the only reason he stays on his knees is because I tore his calves something awful.”  
  
“Wow,” he said, impressed. “A year’s a good while of torture. I think the longest I’ve seen a mortal go is three days.”  
  
The boy snorted. “What I’ve been doing to this boy is far more excruciating than anything _they’ll_ go through,” he pointed aimlessly towards the souls. “They get a few beatings, a few harsh words, confess their sins and off they go. Kyle? I wasn’t even that kind on the first _day_.”  
  
Intrigued, Gragor looked back over at the antichrist, cocking his head. “Really?”  
  
He nodded, looking back over at him and folding his hands atop his stomach. “Ya ever heard of the Binding of Souls ritual, my friend?”  
  
Gragor looked up thoughtfully before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah that’s the ritual that Timpetan performed eons ago, right?”  
  
He nodded, “Right. Performed it on my little pup when I first brought him down here.”  
  
He raised his brow, “And he hasn’t been taken over yet?”  
  
He shook his head, his lips falling into a bit of a pout. “Nope. Stubborn little guy, I’ll tell ya. He’s been chained up the last twenty days, knowing that he’ll get out with just a few little words, but he’s just refusing to give in. He knows it’s his last straw and I don’t think he’s ready to throw in the towel just yet.”  
  
“Wow,” he repeated. “Pretty impressive for a _human_ ,” he said, sticking his long, slithering tongue out in distaste. Damien laughed at his reaction, knowing full and well Gragor’s utter hatred for the species. He’d never bothered to ask his motives, his disgust made a perfect motivator for a job well done so it wasn’t exactly pertinent. Gragor waited for him to calm himself down before continuing. “May I ask, why him, My lord?”  
  
Damien hesitated for a moment, his lips curling into a sly smile. “He’s an angel,” he said softly.  
  
He laughed a bit in disbelief, “What?”  
  
He shrugged. “Haven’t you ever wondered what an angel looks like, Gragor?”  
  
“Can’t say I have, Sir,” he raised his brow, confused at the unfamiliar contentedness over Damien’s face.  
  
“Well I have,” he said dryly. “We’ll never get to see them. Floating around in _God’s_ domain, acting like they’re greater than humanity as a whole because of some fucking little pussy-ass wings,” he rolled his eyes. “But...” he paused. “I couldn’t help but wonder what they looked like. What they acted like. Hell, what they fucking smelled like.”  
  
“Smelled?” he repeated.  
  
He shrugged. “I dunno, I always imagined sugar cookies for some fucking reason.” He smirked. “But no. They smell like mint and coffee,” he grinned, remembering fondly of the smells blending off of Kyle in a deadly, intoxicating aroma when he’d grabbed him back on Earth for that first time. He remembered how the scent nearly knocked him off his feet, getting his excitement nearly spinning out of his control. “Something about angels just...entranced me. McCormick told me about the ones he’d seen on his few trips to Heaven, but they sounded so...ordinary,” he said with distaste. “I didn’t want that. I wanted an angel who wasn’t afraid of a little fire,” he smirked.  
  
“And this Kyle has that I’m assuming?” he asked amusedly.  
  
“That and more,” he tongued over his lips, staring up at the reddened sky and taking a deep breath. “You know how we tell all the souls who end up here that they just didn’t behave well enough or whatever to be let through up to Heaven?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
He looked back over and smirked, “My little pup has earned his wings and more. Hell, you’d know that just from McCormick’s stories alone. He loved to rag on about how big of a heart Kyle has, how kind he was...but also how feisty he got when it came right down to it. And man, was he on the money with that one,” he chuckled. “That idiot just kept on feeding me all these stories of how tough Kyle was, but how sweet. It just pushed me to the edge. I wanted to meet him, I wanted to talk to the boy that was glowing in McCormick’s memories, that was so contradictory...but then I _saw_ him.”  
  
Gragor was nearly completely turned in his seat now, completely entranced with Damien’s story. He’d never heard the boy talking so passionately about something, feeling such emotion leaking off of him the back part of his mind wondered if it was really even Damien sitting beside him. But that familiar devious gleam in his eye was enough to spell the truth for him. “Saw him, My lord?”  
  
He nodded, “I watched McCormick one day when we sent him back to Earth. And there he was, waiting for Ken outside his house. The first thing out of his mouth was a lecture for making him wait so long and smacking McCormick upside the head,” he snickered. “He looked...beautiful,” he said quietly. Gragor’s black eyes widened at the term seeming so unfamiliar coming off such an evil tongue. “The palest skin I’d ever seen. When he smiled, it fucking _glowed_ , Gragor,” he remembered with excited vigor, a part of him wishing that he could see that grin yet again. “His hair looked like the fires of Hell itself,” he pointed to a large, towering flame burning off in the distance, curling and dancing against charcoal smoke rising into the sky. “He was like this perfect counterbalance of Heaven and Hell...I got addicted,” he shrugged dismissively. “Watched him for months alongside McCormick’s stories...decided that Earth had had him for long enough. It was my turn to finally harbor that particular angel.”  
  
Gragor sat in silence at Damien’s completed story, seeing a reminiscent glaze clashing through the boy’s eyes. A part beamed with pride, the other, a sad fading glimpse of the past. “You look troubled, My lord,” he ventured quietly. “Was he not the angel you expected?”  
  
He chuckled and shook his head. “He was, actually. He was exactly as I’d hoped. So defiant against me. Willing to attack me, willing to do nearly anything to get out of my hold so he could spread his wings yet again...” he looked down at his shoes, bouncing his leg with a sigh. “But...I clipped him. He’s not nearly so feisty anymore. If he talks back to me, it’s once in a while, and it’s not with nearly the venom he used to harbor in that pretty little mouth of his.”  
  
“Ah,” he leaned back in his seat and nodded. “You miss the fire?”  
  
“I do,” he nodded. “Ironic, huh? Surrounded by the damn stuff all the time and I only want to see it coming from him.” He paused, his lips twisting downwards a bit. “It was my intention to burn him down, but I didn’t think I’d be so dissatisfied watching him beginning to smolder.”  
  
Gragor was quiet for a moment, looking back out towards the souls still being herded around. “Well...maybe you need to do with him what we do with them,” he gestured towards the mortal gathering. Damien raised a brow at him and he shrugged. “These mortals are going to be tortured and set free. They’ll know that they’re never leaving Hell, but they’ll also know from their punishments to behave themselves accordingly. But that doesn’t stop them from having an attitude,” he rolled his eyes. “Perhaps you need to get him down to the lowest point and then, for a lack of better term, set him free. Let him rediscover who he is. You’ll get the fire back, but he’ll know that he’s trapped with you no matter what, so he’ll fall into the easy snare of obedience with a kick, ya know?” he winced.  
  
Damien stared at him for a moment, letting the concept sink in. “Hm,” he mused, grating over his lip curiously. “I can’t keep him down here,” he admitted. “If I do, I’ll lose every bit of spark that he ever had...I have to send him back to Earth once my soul’s nearly taken him over.” He looked back towards the sky and sighed. “I guess that’s the only place he’d be able to rediscover himself anyway, isn’t it?” He frowned. “But what if my hold gets _too_ loose over him?”  
  
Gragor smirked a bit, unused to hearing such worry in such a strong demon’s tone. “Remember, My lord, he will never be able to rid himself of your soul. Even if he returns to his old self, he’ll never be able to break away from you. Besides, his training wouldn’t just disappear. He’d fall into old habits, sure, but the ones you taught him? He won’t forget them. Not with the torture you’ve apparently put him through.”  
  
Damien couldn’t help but laugh softly at that, looking at the demon with a cocked smile. “I knew there was a reason I didn’t banish you, Gragor.” The beast just chuckled and shook his head as Damien looked back out towards the crowds below them. A tiny smirk crept up over his lips. Gragor was right, getting Kyle back with his family and friends was bound to make some of his old personality spring back to life. So long as Damien kept him in check, he’d be more than able to keep his claws wrapped around his pretty throat. He closed his eyes, seeing a clear vision of his pet still chained, staring at his stone floor with blank, lost eyes. It was creeping closer. All Damien had to do was sit back for his burning angel to finally fall from grace and turn to ash at his waiting feet.  
  


* * *

  
  
**Present Day - Week 22**  
  
Kyle was trembling in his place standing in the dark, familiar room. He bit his lip, glancing around, seeing the football trophy proudly displayed on the top shelf. He wished he’d been there to see it being won. His eyes flickered down to the desk, his heart sinking as his eyes landed on Stan’s desk, alit in the light of his body’s glow. He stepped closer, grabbing a picture from beside Stan’s computer. It was one of the two of them and Kenny. He couldn’t remember taking it, but the three of them had their arms linked with each other’s, Kyle in the middle. They were smiling so wide, so _happily_. Kyle wondered if he’d ever feel that kind of joy again.  
  
A persistent throb in his head made him put the picture back in place, feeling his body being taken over once again by Damien’s grasp. He bit his lip as his legs went to Stan’s bedside on their own accord. He took a shuddery breath, looking at his best friend sleeping so peacefully. This was wrong. Something here was so _wrong_. Why did Damien cite Stan in particular to attack? And why did the demon seem so _angry_ at him when he told him to do so? He gulped. It didn’t matter. He had to do this, lest Damien decide he was going back to Hell.  
  
He shakily murmured his dream incantation, watching Stan beginning to writhe a bit under his Bronco sheets. His blue eyes slowly creaked open, looking around hazily before landing on Kyle. “Kyle?” he asked, sitting up slowly and narrowing his eyes at him. “The fuck...”  
  
“Shh,” Kyle cooed, putting a finger to his lips. “It’s just a dream, Stan,” he whispered.  
  
“Dream?” he repeated before nodding slowly. “Yeah...yeah that makes...sense,” he shook his head a bit in his daze and groaned. “W-why are you naked?” he quirked his brow.  
  
“Because,” he gulped, climbing on the bed and straddling his lap, feeling an uncomfortable lurching in his stomach. Something was screaming how wrong this was, his mind was fighting tooth and nail against what he was doing. “You want me,” he forced himself to say.  
  
Stan stared before laughing softly. “Oh my god... _no_ ,” he said. “Dude...just no. ‘Sides...you and Ken...” he trailed off, shaking his head. Kyle took a deep breath, watching his best friend’s laughter and biting his lip. He had to do this. Stan would understand were he conscious enough to know what was happening. He cupped Stan’s head and forced his eyes up, his desirous spell fluttering out of soft lips. Stan’s laughter ceased immediately, dark blue eyes widening as they stared at each other in silence. Kyle couldn’t help but feel a bit of confusion. Why was it working on Stan but not Kenny so long ago?  
  
The wondering was quickly aborted as strong arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. Kyle let his mind flow like a spring breeze into Stan’s, relieved when he found no indication of the boy wanting to hurt him in this endeavor. He tongued over his lips, digging his hips down onto Stan’s covered groin. The noirette moaned softly, pulling him down and kissing him passionately. Kyle nearly jerked back, feeling Stan’s desires flickering inside of him like a candle. It was a small burn within him, not nearly as forceful as every other one of his ‘victims’. It didn’t matter. He had to do this. He moaned for show, continuing to grind down against him, rotating his hips on his lap and drinking up Stan’s heady groans. His hands traveled up, twisting in Stan’s hair, but noticing his body didn’t _like_ the way Stan’s hair felt. It was too straight and even, nothing like the expertly disheveled mess that was Kenny’s. He shook away the thoughts, propelling himself into action.   
  
He lifted himself up a bit, maneuvering his legs to pull the sheets down away from Stan’s body and down his legs. He let his hand travel up Stan’s thigh, brushing over the growing bulge under his boxers. Stan’s hips jerked up into his touch and Kyle shuddered. This was his best friend. His very _straight_ best friend. His eyes scrunched tightly, shaking as he worked to fish Stan’s cock out from his boxer’s flap. He had to get this over with quickly. He needed to do his job and just get _home_ , get away from this nightmare and try to pretend it never happened.   
  
“Nervous?” Stan’s voice was hot against his face. Kyle forced himself to nod, murmuring his lubrication spell and letting it seep out of his palm. He grasped Stan’s dick and began pumping it to life, listening to Stan’s hisses and moans with a nauseated feeling. “Don’t be,” Stan kissed him, his eyes drooping sleepily. “You’re...doin’ great.” Kyle offered a weak smile, focusing on his target. He yelped quietly as Stan ran his hand up his own cock, gathering some of the lube on himself before grasping Kyle back. Kyle cursed to himself as his body began to react, his hips rocking into Stan’s hand.  
  
Kyle’s free hand traced back, landing on Stan’s thigh as he pushed his hips up further, the heads of their cocks brushing against each other in a sultry friction. Damien’s hold slammed back into him and he shook his head in a complete daze, green eyes becoming muddled once more as Stan’s desires began to rush into him. “Stan,” he moaned hotly, tonguing over his lips seductively. “Do you want to fuck me?” he asked, leaning forward and nipping Stan’s chin.  
  
“I do,” he nodded, tonguing across Kyle’s lips. “Fuck...Ky,” he breathed out with a long groan. Kyle could feel his body being torn apart in conflict at the words, but Damien’s chokehold on his veins propelled him to keep to his mission.  
  
“I want you to, too,” he lied, kissing him. “I need you inside me, Stan. Please,” he whispered, kissing along his neck and cheek. Stan just nodded, stunned at Kyle’s bluntness, the back part of his hazy mind saying that this wasn’t his best friend, it couldn’t _possibly_ be. The thoughts quickly vanished as Kyle lifted his hips from his lap, allowing him to scooch himself down on the bed some more. He watched, entranced, as Kyle took his hand from his cock, using the lubed fingers to reach back and press into himself. He observed the redhead’s cute, contorting face, keeping his own palm stroking Kyle’s cock lazily.  
  
“You like fucking yourself?” he asked dreamily.  
  
Kyle nodded, grunting as he rocked into Stan’s hand, pressing himself further onto his fingers. He felt dirty. He felt used. This felt so _wrong_. He stretched and twisted his fingers inside the tight heat, trying to quickly prepare himself for what he knew was going to be a strain on his body and his nerves. He ripped his fingers out of himself, wiping them on the sheets before crawling over Stan, reaching behind him and grabbing his cock with one hand. Stan’s hand relinquished his cock for a moment, grasping his ass with eager hands and spreading it apart for him. Kyle blushed, carefully lowering himself down onto the head of Stan’s rock hard dick, hissing as he pressed it into himself. Genially, grateful for Stan’s patience, he pressed himself downwards until finding himself fully seated on his best friend’s lap. He grunted, shifting around and trying to get comfortable with the insane heat shoved up inside of him. Stan’s hand went back to working on his cock and he found himself dizzy with pleasure.  
  
Kyle moaned, placing his hands on Stan’s shoulders and beginning to roll himself up and down the invasion in fluid motions. He looked to see Stan watching him with that quixotic expression, a goofy grin spread over his handsome face. Kyle gave him a saucy smile, picking up his speed, the air filled with the slick sound of his body being fucked and the bedsprings squeaking ungraciously. “Jesus, Ky...” he moaned, thumbing over Kyle’s slit. The feeling was incredible, the tight, scorching pull of Kyle’s ass luring him in like a siren song. It was exquisite, a sight he’d never before imagined. But he loved every moment, the redhead riding him so fluently seeming to be practically made for his body.  
  
Kyle let out a startled yelp as Stan used his legs to thrust up against his rhythm, each push inside of him hitting his prostate with deadly accuracy. Kyle was finding himself overstimulated with the feeling, with the situation. His mind was in a tizzy, his body aching for more but begging to stop. He didn’t know what to do, keeping his cadence up as best he could as his entire being struggled for his answer.  
  
His battle began to end as he felt Stan’s thighs quivering beneath him, his friend’s insistence on speeding up telling him exactly what was going to happen. He bit his lip, finally noticing the tight coiling in his stomach that his mind was trying to distract him from. He let out a long cry, finding himself losing his control before he even knew it, exploding onto Stan’s broad chest. He panted, trying to resume his tempo but the dizzying rush of pleasure making it hard to make sense of his surroundings. Stan picked up the slack, grasping Kyle’s hips with strong hands and pulling him down hard on his cock, watching Kyle’s face hungrily. He wanted this. He wanted this so badly he didn’t know how he’d contained himself this long.  
  
Kyle finally was able to regain some of his bleary vision, feeling Stan losing control way too quickly for his liking. He placed his hand back down on his chest, narrowing his eyes. “ _Hoc animae p-pert-_ ” he stopped, something inside of him snapping. Damien’s cloud cleared in an instant, the words refusing to tumble out of his mouth. He groaned as Stan ignored his half-finished hymn, releasing deep inside of Kyle’s ass with a long-winded moan. His hands fell off of Kyle’s hips and he looked at his ceiling with those dreary eyes, panting and coughing a bit from the rush. Kyle shuddered, the full reality of what was just done setting in with the mist gone. He pulled himself off of Stan’s cock, shakily getting onto his bedroom floor and staring at him.  
  
Stan looked over, riddled with sweat and a confused glaze over his eyes. “K-Ky?”  
  
“It’s just a dream, Stan,” he said, his voice cracking. “Go to sleep...you’ll feel better in the morning.”  
  
Stan was silent, his eyes widening in panic, trying to sit himself up in a frenzy to get to the redhead. “KYLE, IT’S DAM-”  
  
Stan’s voice disappeared along with the entire sight of his room as Kyle was snared by the arm, a hand slapping over his mouth. He screamed nonetheless, looking back to see Damien snarling at him as they traveled through Stan’s floor through that damnable white void. Kyle began to panic, wondering if they were going back to Hell, wondering if this was it for him, if his last memory of Earth would be him _raping_ his best friend. He felt a wave of confusion and relief as they landed in his bedroom, screeching as Damien threw him to the ground. He curled into himself a bit, looking up at the demon with wide, scared eyes.  
  
“You have been _very_ naughty, Pup,” Damien growled.  
  
Kyle blinked, his wits back about him as he struggled to fight for his response. “What did I do?!” he cried out.  
  
Damien blinked at him in shock. No Master. No stuttering. No pauses. No _nothing_. He sneered, torn between delight and pure aggressive fury. “Put on your fucking pajama pants, I’ll spare your fucking dignity this time,” he demanded. Kyle went to get them without hesitation, only adding to Damien’s pure confusion over the situation. Kyle stumbled as his revitalization spell wore off, crying out as his scars began dully thudding as they pushed up through his skin. He groaned, falling to his knees at the bed, clawing into the sheets to get himself back up, knowing that he couldn’t hesitate to follow Damien’s orders, he was in _way_ too much trouble to make him impatient.  
  
Damien caught a strange gleam from Kyle’s right arm in the moonlight as he shakily slid on his pajamas and narrowed his eyes. His eyes pulsed and the lights flickered on, Kyle shutting his own in discomfort and hissing. Damien walked towards him, grabbing his arm and scanning over it, a worrisome feeling percolating within him. White veins. Matched to the black on his left arm. Both sets were now prominently displayed, both creeping up, ending with curled strings at the tips of his shoulders. “What the fuck?” he stared at them in bewilderment, his temper beginning to rise. Something wasn’t right here. This wasn’t _his_ soul’s marker...He paused, eyes widening.  
  
It was Kyle’s.  
  
“Fuck!” he shouted, throwing Kyle back onto the floor. Kyle gulped, never seeing Damien this angry before. He shot his head to the door, hearing Ike knocking frantically.   
  
“ _Kyle?! You okay?!_ ”   
  
“Ike, stay out! Go to your room!” Kyle shouted back. He bit his lip as Ike continued trying to get into the room, shouting for their parents.  
  
Damien snarled, using his power to fling the door open, tearing it off its hinges and sending it crashing into Kyle’s closet. Ike, Sheila, and Gerald rushed in, staring at the demon with wide eyes and gaping mouths. “You!” Sheila pointed at him accusingly. “You’re the one who took him!”  
  
“Very perceptive,” he rolled his eyes. “Now let me tell you something, Woman: You come any fucking closer, and I’ll take your son right back to Hell. You understand me? Or maybe I’ll slit his throat and you can clean up the mess. How’s _that_?”  
  
“Guys...get out,” Kyle said slowly, watching his master with horrified eyes.   
  
“No, actually, Pup,” Damien spat. “I want you three to stay right there. I want you to _see_ just what trouble your little boy is in.” Kyle’s breath went shallow, eyes alert and scanning over Damien’s tensed posture. He wasn’t prepared for this. This wasn’t Damien’s usual evilly calm demeanor. This was an entirely different playing field. “You all stay perfectly still, you understand me?” he addressed the three of them. They all looked at Kyle, who nodded slowly. Compliance was the only way he could get out of this one. He’d learned.  
  
“Master...” he started slowly, crawling over towards him. Damien’s head whipped back around and Kyle froze, caught in a death stare he didn’t know existed. “Please,” he whispered. “I...I...”  
  
“You _what_ , Pup?” he demanded, reaching down and snaring Kyle’s hair, ripping him up onto his feet. They heard Sheila crying out urgently but ignored it, locked in each other’s stare. “You go behind me and fuck McCormick and then you don’t complete your fucking duties! Just what do _you_ think is proper punishment for that?” Kyle’s mouth dropped. How did he know about Kenny? How could he possibly know?! Damien threw him back onto the ground, kicking him and sending him flying into his wall, crashing down on the floor in a curled heap. “McCormick is a _fool_ ,” he said darkly. “When you took his soul, it went to _me_ , Pup. I’m no idiot.”  
  
Kyle blinked. Soul? “Master...I-”  
  
He stopped as Damien quickly knelt down, grabbing his throat and pushing him onto his back on the carpet, garnets blazing with rage. “You shut the _fuck_ up until I say otherwise, do you understand?” he shook him and Kyle gulped, nodding.  
  
 “Yes, Master, I understand,” he said in a rasp under the strong hand.  
  
“Hiding in a fucking synagogue,” he laughed humorlessly. “Smart of you, little one, I’ll give you that. Tell me, did you find God again? Did He come and apologize for letting you be my bitch? Hm? Or are you right back where you were, wondering where He is and why He would let such _awful_ things happen to you?” He narrowed his eyes as Kyle’s glazed over with tears, stealing a quick glance at the shocked group huddled together, trying to hold themselves back from attacking the demon. He pulled him up by the throat, forcing him back onto his knees. “Who do you belong to?” he asked darkly.  
  
“You, Master! I belong to you!” he insisted.  
  
Damien took a deep, even breath, shaking his head. “You disobeyed me again, Pup. Twice in one week in fact.” He held up his palm, Kyle’s face dropping as that damnable collar appeared in his hand. Damien handed it to him, “Put it on,” he ordered. Kyle gulped and nodded, slowly wrapping it around his neck, fastening it into place, feeling a shudder of disgusting familiarity as he tightened it to how he’d worn it for so long. He dropped his hands, looking at Damien with wide, scared eyes. Damien breathed a bit in relief. Kyle was still terrified of him, that was definitely a point in his favor. Damien got to his feet, staring down at him darkly. This was all raising too many questions.  
  
He had to talk to his father.  
  
Damien glanced around his room and rolled his eyes as he passed over the petrified expressions of Kyle’s family. “Pup, crawl to your window,” he ordered. Kyle shakily nodded, making his way over and sitting himself in front of it, never letting his eyes leave his master’s. Damien held up his hand and Kyle choked as his collar was ripped towards the ceiling, whimpering as he found himself chained up on his knees yet again from the top of the window frame. He watched as another set of chains slithered out of thin air, going around his wrists and wrenching them behind his back. He hissed as they were tightened from either side behind him, crossing his arms over each other in agony, his collarbone and chest arching out from the uncomfortable setting. “Familiar, isn’t it, Pup?” Damien murmured. “Remember how much time you spent chained up in your little room?” Kyle nodded, his teeth gritted. “And just _why_ were you chained?”  
  
“Because I disobeyed, Master,” he whimpered, forcing his eyes to stay locked in Damien’s.  
  
“Very good,” he nodded. “Now you’re going to stay there and you’re going to think about how bad of an idea it is to go behind my back and not follow orders, do you understand?”  
  
He nodded briskly. “Master...I...I’m sorry,” he said with glistening eyes.  
  
“Hm,” Damien nodded curtly. He sighed, walking over and placing his hand on the boy’s head. “ _Extendere virtus animae meae_ ,” he muttered before stepping back, watching Kyle’s body convulse a bit with energy. He crossed his arms and shook his head. “There, now you won’t go catatonic since you failed to gather your master’s power,” he glared. “That’ll give you enough of a boost for the next month, but you’ll still suffer your withdrawal effects,” he narrowed his eyes. “Do you understand?”  
  
“Yes, Master,” he nodded, his head dropping in shame.  
  
Damien turned to face Kyle’s family, smirking at their dark glares. “Understand this:” he started dryly. “When my pet is chained as such, he does not get food or water. He waits for his master to give him permission for such privileges. Do you all understand?”  
  
“You sick fucking _bastard_ ,” Ike shook his head, snarling at the demon.  
  
Damien chuckled, stepping up in front of him and pinching his cheek lightly. “Perhaps, but I’m a sick fucking bastard who owns your brother, little boy, so I suggest you don’t piss me off less I snap his pretty neck. Get it?” Ike smacked his hand away, backing up beside his mother.  
  
“You monster,” she sobbed past a hand clutched over her mouth, looking past him at the defeated redhead.  
  
Damien shrugged, giving Kyle another glance. He shuddered, it’d been so long since he’d seen him chained to his will. He couldn’t deny he missed it a bit. “Behave, my pup. Remember your rules.”  
  
Red and green raised up and he nodded, “Yes, Master.” Damien smirked a bit before sinking down into the floor, a determined line set over his face.  
  
The Broflovski’s all watched the spot he seeped through before looking at each other with glassy eyes. “Oh, Bubbeleh,” Sheila coughed out a cry, walking over and kneeling in front of him. She brushed his bangs out of his eyes and he let out a heavy sigh.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.  
  
“For what, Kyle?” Gerald asked gently.  
  
He cringed, “I...I brought Damien here. I-I didn’t want any of you to see this. To know how I’ve been living...” he trailed off with an embarrassed wince.  
  
Ike watched him curiously, cocking his brow. “Hey...you’re talking. Like, coherently.” His parents jolted in realization and their mouths dropped.  
  
Kyle shrugged, “Something’s going on. I-I don’t know what. I’ve been going between being under his control and not...” he rolled his eyes in frustration once again going dizzy from the action and groaning. He looked at his mother still in front of him and his eyes drooped sadly. “I’m really sorry, Ma. I kinda wish...I could’ve just stayed down there...I really _really_ didn’t want you to see what he did to me.”  
  
Tears began rolling down her plump cheeks and she leaned forward, grasping him in a hug. “Baby, we’re going to get through this,” she assured him. “We don’t care what that monster says. You’re still Kyle and we’re going to always be here for you, okay?” Kyle sighed, tilting his head to rest against hers and nodding. A part of him was stuck in complete wonder. This wasn’t nearly as bad of a punishment as he would have usually gotten. But something about Damien seemed...scared wasn’t it. But worried, maybe. Something was happening, and he knew that it was going to come down to where he belonged.  
  
He watched as Ike came over, grabbing a blanket off his bed and moving towards him to throw it on his shoulders. Kyle shook his head. “Ike, don’t,” he said. The boy stopped and blinked confusedly and he sighed. “I’m not taking any chances...” he looked at the three of them. “None of you try to do anything to make me suffer less, understand? He’s dangerous and if you step outside of what he’s okay with, he _will_ hurt me.” They all nodded and he slunk as much as his confined position allowed. “You guys should...go to bed,” he winced. “I’m not going anywhere,” he attempted a smirk.  
  
“Bubbie are you sure?” Sheila asked. He nodded, leaning forward a bit and kissing her cheek.  
 “I’ll be fine,” he smiled softly. “A month’s pretty lenient considering what else he’s put me through,” he laughed weakly. Her eyes teared up again but she shook them off. She knew she had to stay strong. If Kyle was trying then she’d have to, too. She kissed him back and ran her fingers through his soft hair. “I love you,” Kyle smiled, a part of him dancing in relief that he could say that again without stuttering through like a moron.  
  
“You, too, Honey,” she smiled sadly. “We’ll come see you in the morning.” He gave her another smile, nodding to his dad who gave him a small one back before they both walked out of his room together. He jolted a bit as one of his pillows slammed on the floor, looking to see Ike grabbing his blankets and making a pile of them on the carpet.  
  
“Ike, what the hell are you doing?” he raised his brow.  
  
“Sleeping in here,” he muttered. “I’m not leaving you alone.”  
  
Kyle sighed. “Ike, I was by myself for almost two years. I think I can handle the night.” He jerked back a bit as he noticed tears leaking down Ike’s face. “Ike, I’m okay,” he assured him worriedly. “I’m gonna be just fine.”  
  
He shook his head, wiping the tears with his arm. He walked over and shut the door, turning on Kyle’s desk lamp and shutting off the overhead light. He strolled back and plopped onto his impromptu nest, staring up at his brother sadly. “You’re not gonna be alone again,” he said firmly. “Kyle, I _swear_ it.”  
  
Kyle stared at him for a few moments, his heart warming in his chest, a tearful smile crossing over his face. He nodded a bit. “Thanks, Ike,” he whispered. “Get some sleep.” Ike nodded with a yawn, scooching himself up and pressing his head against Kyle’s leg, nuzzling against it. Kyle watched him for a good while before his eyes drifted back up towards his door. He laughed humorlessly. Damien chained him against the window so he couldn’t see the outside, so he wouldn’t be reminded that the world was still out there. He smirked, looking down and seeing Ike cuddled against his leg taking deep, even breaths. The darkness began settling within him again and he shuddered, knowing well enough he couldn’t fight it off, but feeling a wave of strange relief sweltering in his stomach. Damien owned him, he knew this, but the demon had forgotten something very important about him: The bulldog was still in him somewhere. These chains wouldn’t hold him for long.


	20. Chapter 20

  
**Day 637**  
  
67 days.   
  
It took 67 days of beatings, of Damien coming in and using him to his whim as he remained chained for his stubborn tongue. In 67 days, one could do many things. Two months could change one’s life. Loves could be forged, friendships could be destroyed. Lives could begin and end. The Republic of Užice in Yugoslavia came to fruition and was brought down in only 67 days. An entire territory with such a shortened lifespan that it was forgotten in the annuls of history, overshadowed by the horrors of the second World War and left as a footnote.  
  
And in 67 days, Kyle Broflovski suffered a similar fate.  
  
He thought by now he’d be used to being confined like this. A part of him was terrified that certain aspects of him were, such as his wrists beyond used to being rubbed raw. It was nothing more than mildly irritating at this point. He’d grown accustomed to his legs going to sleep, screaming at him every time he shifted slightly. The clenching of his starved stomach was nothing new anymore, though he couldn’t deny how badly it hurt, how he wanted to curl into himself from the hunger. His throat was bone dry once more, each breath scraping against the walls like nails. Eyes were constantly overflowing with unprompted tears, his body trying desperately to keep the pained orbs from failing on him completely. All of it was so... _mundane_ now. Part of the routine that he’d come to expect in his position.  
 One thing he never expected, however, was the way he looked at Damien as he entered his prison again. That voice inside him that screamed for him to fight was stomped out, his light extinguished in the confines of his dank cell. He just couldn’t do it anymore. He ran out of hope. No force on Heaven or Earth was going to come to his rescue, he knew he’d have to concede.   
  
But God, he didn’t want to.  
  
Damien walked over in front of him, placing his hand down on his hair and scratching his head. “You’ve been so quiet, little bulldog,” he murmured, brushing stray curls into their place. “Where did your bark go?” Kyle just shrugged listlessly and the demon smirked. He rattled Kyle’s chained arms, “And your bite?” Another shrug. Kyle knew better. Getting angry would get him nowhere. Plotting revenge would grant him nothing but more pain. It sank in harder than it ever had before: He was _trapped_.  
  
Muddled green eyes raised, glistened with his body’s last line of defense: that gleam of hate that Damien so loved to see. It was so faint, so well concealed within the bloodshot sight that the demon almost didn’t see it. But it was there, and it was screaming. It was the only part of the redhead still willing to give a last stand. Kyle took a deep breath, his head dropping down in complete defeat. Hatred or no, he was done. Done with the pain. Done with the fighting. Done with the worthless struggles...He just couldn’t do it anymore. He muttered something and Damien’s ears piqued a bit. “What was that, Pup?”  
  
“Please...” he whispered through his hoarse throat, fire dusting his cheeks. “I need you to fuck me, Master.”  
  
Damien’s jaw dropped a bit before his entire face began to glow with giddy felicity. “Again,” he ordered, kneeling down in front of the boy, hearing his own voice wavering in excitement. “And look at me, Pup.”  
  
He had to stop himself from falling over as those beaten eyes met his own, Kyle’s face completely devoid of any emotion. “Please fuck me, Master,” he repeated.  
  
Damien grinned darkly, instantly waving away Kyle’s chains and catching him before he hit the ground. He grabbed under him and brought him closer into his chest, running his hand through his hair. “ _Such_ a good boy,” he cooed. “Was that so hard?” Kyle remained silent, staring off at the wall. Damien watched him for a bit, relishing in the soft tendrils between his fingers. A part of him couldn’t help but feel a pang of loss. His angel’s wings had finally turned to cinder. All he was left with was a very broken boy. But he knew, this was _his_ broken boy.  
  
He held up his hand, Kyle watching blankly as a piece of steak appeared in his fingers. “Go ahead,” Damien patted him. Kyle took it from his hand, chewing slowly, relishing in the juices running down his throat, but feeling no joy from the experience. It was table scraps. He was eating what he’d earned, not what he wanted. He sank lower into Damien’s chest. The days of wants were over now. Damien held up a palm full of water and he drank it down, grateful for the frigid liquid rushing through his scratchy pipes. Damien continued to feed him in silence, running his fingers through his hair and relishing in Kyle’s quiet compliancy. This was everything he’d been working so hard for, everything that he’d wanted Kyle to become. So why was it so _hard_ to watch him as such?  
  
Damien tried handing him another bite of steak and Kyle pulled away, his shrunken stomach unable to handle anything more. Damien chuckled, waving away the meat and setting Kyle up on his legs in front of him. “Tell me, little pup, what made you change your mind?”  
  
Kyle took a deep breath. May as well be honest, it’s not as though lying would get him out of his predicament. “I’m tired, Master,” he croaked.  
  
Damien raised his brow. “You did so just so you could sleep? You’ve been punished for much longer than this stint before.”  
  
He shook his head, curls bouncing along his forehead. “Tired...of pain,” he whispered. “I-I...I can’t fight,” he blinked, staring at the ground in shame.  
  
The demon sat and stared at him, taking notice of the lack of eloquence. He wasn’t expecting that, that’s for sure. He placed a hand on Kyle’s chest, narrowing his eyes. Kyle’s soul still wasn’t consumed, wasn’t where he needed it to be before sending the boy back up to Earth. But something here was definitely wrong. He was falling too hard and too fast all of a sudden. He hummed in thought. Perhaps Kyle finally giving up the fight was making way for his soul to overtake him faster. It’d been a long, tedious process up until now with bit by bit of their souls melding. If Kyle’s soul had finally reached its end, then maybe it was destroying all the other remainders of Kyle from the sudden overtake. Damien couldn’t say that didn’t tear him up a bit. His red eyes lit with inspiration. There was one thing that got Kyle rearing to fight.   
  
He got to his feet and looked down at him expectantly. “I want to hear you say it again,” he said dryly.  
  
“I need you to fuck me, Master,” he said blankly, taking long, slow blinks.  
  
He grinned deviously, “Well then?” Kyle let out a long breath, struggling onto his knees in front of Damien and undoing his jeans. He immediately took the exposed cock into his mouth, keeping his hands on Damien’s hips to keep his balance. He took long, slow sucks up and down the length, his tongue darting around and coating each inch. Damien’s breath hitched, feeling himself twitching in Kyle’s working mouth. He looked down, seeing Kyle’s eyes locked on his own and blinking in surprise. He usually had to get his attention before Kyle looked his way...This was definitely his style.  
  
“Good boy,” he cooed, lightly pushing his hips up into Kyle’s mouth. He felt Kyle trying to relax his throat, his stiffening cock beginning to edge towards the back. Kyle’s tongue swiveled around the head and he shuddered in the feeling. Kyle stared up into Damien’s eyes, but his mind was completely blank. Something was happening. Some dark cloud was invading him, preventing him from realizing the true extent of what he was doing. A part of him was thankful, the rest of him was terrified. Losing his mind was something Kyle had always feared, and now, Damien was making it come to fruition. He took a long, shuddery breath, the bitter musk of Damien’s taste washing over his palate, completely numbing his senses. The familiarity of the taste brought him a nauseating comfort. This was something he knew, horrid as it was.  
  
Damien’s fingers curled in his hair, his hips beginning to push against him all the faster. “Do you like Master’s cock?” he teased. Kyle mumbled an ‘mhm’ around his sliding dick, letting Damien fuck his face as he wished, focusing on keeping his gag reflex under control. Damien couldn’t help but shudder as he felt Kyle’s level of calm as he was abused. It was entirely delicious, and yet the most repulsive thing he’d ever witnessed. He narrowed his eyes, Kyle’s widening in the slightest, thinking that he was doing something wrong from his expression. His cheeks hollowed further, trying to rectify whatever mistake it was that he’d made and Damien smirked. He was unbearably hard already, and there was only one other thing he could do to test Kyle’s limitations. He was more than ready to take full advantage of it.   
  
He ripped his dick out of Kyle’s mouth, the redhead wiping the dribble off of his chin. Damien opened his mouth, slowly shutting it as Kyle turned around in front of him with no preemptive, lowering his chest onto the ground and waiting for Damien. He blinked. And again. Kyle stared off at the side wall with those dulled green eyes, misted mind telling him to just accept his fate as a sextoy and wade through it. After this, he could sleep. He’d be okay.  
  
Damien was not quite so optimistic, chest burning in worry before shoving it down, getting onto his knees behind him. He slowly let his demonic lube soak his fingers, pressing a sudden three into Kyle. The boy yelped and cringed into himself, but forced himself to relax, shaking as Damien’s fingers thrust into him. The demon watched curiously as Kyle merely accepted what was happening, nothing more than a small whimper escaping his pretty mouth now and again. He could feel Kyle’s body adjusting to his invasion, muscle contracting and relaxing around his fingers as he spread them within his captive. He flinched as he bit down, a fang nipping at his forked tongue. He pulled his fingers out, watching Kyle convulse a tad in the sudden loss. Damien spread the boy’s thighs, slowly guiding his cock into his waiting form.  
  
Kyle groaned, his body giving him a dull sting and the instinct to fight coming and waning within seconds. Damien came to a full stop once seated in his body, focusing on the heat trapping his cock, Kyle shutting his eyes and gulping at Damien’s lack of movement. They stayed like that for a good five minutes, Damien only occasionally shifting, opening Kyle at new angles, making his body stretch and contort to his whim. It was beautiful, Damien decided. Watching Kyle swallowing his cock like he’d taken his lessons. The way that his ass was conforming to him without question, how it looked so painful and yet Kyle was being his good dog and just _taking it_.  
  
“You’re going to fuck yourself on my cock,” he said dryly. He slapped Kyle’s ass, leaving a red handprint and smirking at Kyle’s high-pitched yelp. “Get to it,” he smacked him again. Kyle blinked, not quite sure of what to do here. He smacked his lips a bit, placing his shaking hands on the ground in front of him. He slowly began to work his thighs and hips, rocking himself up and down Damien’s dick. “Good,” Damien nodded in approval, his hands ghosting over Kyle’s hips and waist to keep him steady. Kyle’s mouth dropped as he continued to work, his eyes clenching shut. His legs were screaming for him to stop, that they’d been through too much with being chained again to be subjected to this kind of effort. He knew though. It didn’t matter what they felt, all that mattered was how Damien felt.   
  
Kyle grunted, fingernails digging down into his stone floor as he continued to let what little body weight he still retained impale himself down on his master’s cock. He bit his lip, pushing his forearms down into the floor, wincing at his scars scraping over the rock but continue to propel himself back. He was out of energy and could feel his eyelids growing ridiculously heavy considering his current circumstance, moving his hands and pinching his arms to keep himself awake. Damien watched him curiously, the way that his back was so beautifully arched for him, how his spine traveled gracefully to that gorgeous mess of curls. Hungry clawed fingers traced over Kyle’s jutting shoulder blades, feeling muscles and tendons contracting under bone as Kyle shoved back against him. He could see Kyle’s thighs quivering, his entire upper body shaking with pure exhaustion. He couldn’t help but be impressed at his pet’s perseverance to serve him as ordered.  
  
“Are you enjoying yourself?” he smirked.  
  
For a moment, only the sound of skin slapping into skin filled the void before a crackling ‘yes, Master’ slipped through the moment. Damien shuddered. The voice was so empty, so hollow, but so _obedient_. He licked his lips, watching Kyle try to keep himself pulsing in a steady rhythm, occasionally losing his beat and stumbling over himself. Damien cocked a crooked grin. He was so tired. A part of him couldn’t help but wonder if it was purely the exhaustion making Kyle so submissive. Then again, he’d seen him in even worse states and Kyle had come after him with that passionate fury that so drew him in.  
  
He decided after a good ten minutes of Kyle awkwardly trying to keep things going to grant him a mercy, grabbing onto his hips and pushing back against him. “Don’t stop, my pet,” he muttered. Kyle head nodded briskly, sweat dripping down his face, rushing over the bags under his eyes as he pressed against Damien’s strong rhythm. He shook his head, trying to get his bangs out from his eyes before screeching airily as a hand curled in his hair, pulling his head up and holding him steady. Damien’s hips slammed into his tender ass, cock filling him to the brim in a constant low burn that Kyle determined was only so insignificant because of how fucking tired he was.   
  
Damien gritted his teeth, claws curling into Kyle’s body as he quickly approached his climax. There was so much he loved about this situation, but yet so much that he _loathed_. But watching Kyle’s body opening for him, his protest gone and his fire surviving on embers, it was intoxicating. Damien drank it in like wine, overwhelmed with the prowess that he’d secured. He slapped Kyle’s firm ass once more, prompting a long-winded yelp and a loss of rhythm from the boy under his thumb. He grunted, his vision blurring as his end came towards him like a bullet. He quickly pulled himself out of Kyle, fisting himself with a hand grabbing Kyle’s ass. He exploded over Kyle’s back and ass with a long moan, his legs shaking and the air completely stolen from him. It was an unbelievable feeling.  
  
He stared as Kyle remained on his knees, trembling but holding steady. Damien’s cum ran over the sides of his back and around his hips, down the back of his thighs. It was a beautiful sight that Damien wanted inscribed on his memory for all eternity. “Look at me,” he managed to say past his panting. Kyle turned, staring over his slender freckled shoulder, eyes half lidded in complete exhaustion. Damien gave him a bit of a smirk. “What’s on your mind?”  
  
Kyle blinked slowly. “May I lie down, Master?” he whispered, sounding like a meek, frail child. Damien nodded and Kyle’s body gave up on him, unbound by Damien’s rule anymore. He collapsed into a curled heap on the stone, shaking in his fatigue. Damien scooted over to him on his knees, staring down at Kyle’s debauched form and chuckling lightly.   
  
“You’ve been a very good boy, Kyle,” he murmured, stroking his bangs out of his eyes. Kyle tried desperately to keep his eyes open, quickly losing his battle. Damien sighed, reaching down to Kyle’s neck and unhooking his collar, bringing it back up into his hand. Kyle watched, his struggling vision now opened wide in confusion. “Good boys _always_ get their rewards,” he echoed, petting him. “Get some sleep.” He got to his feet, putting himself back into his jeans and watching as Kyle’s body slumped, finally getting the rest he so desperately desired. The demon watched him a bit, clutching the leather band tightly in his hand. He knew what this meant. Kyle couldn’t be kept with him much longer. He was losing his fight against Damien’s soul, falling hard and fast into a creature that the demon couldn’t even recognize anymore.  
  
He stepped back, watching Kyle as he backed away from him, unable to tear his eyes off of the fragile form. He tongued over his lips a bit, red eyes lax and sighing deeply. “Patience, little bulldog,” he murmured. “You’ll find your bite once more.”  
  


* * *

  
  
**Present Day - Week 22**  
  
Kyle bounced a bit in place impatiently, looking up at his ceiling with burning eyes. He’d been getting so much sleep the last few months he’d grown accustomed to it once more. Staying up was much harder than he seemed to remember. He sighed, letting his head droop back down, watching sunbeams dancing across his carpet between the leaves of the tree outside his window. He smiled a bit sadly. At least now he had something to see, not just a blackened stone floor with no indications of time. It was somewhat reassuring, though he wondered if knowing how much time was passing would make him obsessed with counting down. He shook his head. It didn’t matter. He was stuck here until Damien told him otherwise and that was the end of that.  
  
He bit his lip lightly, hearing his family downstairs past his broken door talking. His stomach grumbled, knowing they were eating down there. His mom was doing her best to make sure he wasn’t aware of food being prepared, his family agreeing to live off of cold sandwiches and cereal until Kyle could eat with them again and wouldn’t have to have smells driving him mad. It was humiliating and guilt-wrenching for the redhead, but they wouldn’t have a moment of his arguments. He heard the doorbell and sighed, knowing that it must be Stan. He’d asked Ike to get in contact with the boy, needing someone to help him piece together what little information he had on what he had been doing. He couldn’t let Ike himself do it, it was just far too personal and something that Kyle couldn’t have his little brother think about every time he looked at him.  
  
His suspicion was confirmed when Stan came up the stairs, making a beeline for Kyle’s room. He poked his head in, his face dropping into terror as they locked eyes. “Oh fuck, Ky,” he whispered, slowly making his way in, standing in the doorway as though walking in might make Kyle’s situation worse.  
  
“Stan,” Kyle looked at him with glassy eyes. “Stan, I need your help.”  
  
Stan nodded briskly. “All right, are they like...demonic or what?”  
  
He blinked, “Demonic?”  
  
“The chains,” he gestured his hands around aimlessly. “Can I get them off with a bolt cutter or do I need to do some fucking ritual thi-”  
  
“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “I’m not getting out of the chains.” Stan stared at him in confusion and he sighed. “Get my laptop, please,” he said softly. The noirette nodded again, walking to Kyle’s desk and ripping out the power cord, coming over and sitting beside Kyle on the floor.  
  
“Before we start...whatever we’re doing,” he drawled out, “What happened?”  
  
Kyle slunk a bit and shrugged listlessly, cheeks dusting with rose. “I-I didn’t follow his orders,” he murmured. “And...he knows about Kenny.”  
  
Stan’s eyes widened and he growled a bit, making Kyle recoil a tad. “Dammit, McCormick,” he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I told him. I fucking _told him_ that you two fucking around would get you hurt. But _nooooo_ , he had to-”  
  
“He said Satan said we had to,” he interjected firmly, setting his lips in a straight line. “Since that night...Damien’s hold is getting a lot weaker. It still comes and goes in little spurts but...I’m remembering a _lot_. And as you can tell, I remember how to fucking speak again.”  
  
He nodded, “Yeah, which is great. It’s nice to not hear you sounding like...” he trailed off, looking for his word.  
  
“A victim?” he shrugged. Stan winced and nodded and the redhead sighed. “Well like it or not, that’s what I am, regardless of my eloquence,” he rolled his eyes. “But I trust Kenny. And I trust Satan.”  
  
“That’s a phrase you don’t hear too often,” he chuckled weakly.  
  
“I...I remember one day Satan came to see me,” he muttered, closing his eyes and trying to piece together the fuzzy memory. “I-I don’t remember what was said, but, I remember how _kind_ he sounded, and how upset he seemed to be that I was in my situation...” he reopened his eyes to the floor before slowly looking up at Stan with sad eyes. “Stan...I’m fucking scared,” he whispered.  
  
The boy’s face dropped and he gently raised his hand, putting it on Kyle’s shoulder. “I can imagine, Dude,” he said softly.  
  
He shook his head, “No. No you can’t... _begin_ to imagine it,” he sniffled. “I’m getting memories back...I can speak again...but I still just don’t feel like myself. I feel like I’m a puppet in a Kyle suit. I haven’t felt like Kyle in so _long_ that...that I don’t remember what it’s like anymore. I’m absolutely terrified of him, Stan,” his voice cracked a bit. “And he’s still inside of me and I can’t get him out...” he wiped his tear-stained eyes on his shoulder awkwardly before Stan raised his hand and brushed the wetness from his lashes. “Even Ken said I couldn’t be completely saved,” he whispered. “I-Is this it?” he asked incredulously. “A-am I going to be...walking around Earth but still be Damien’s slave? Or is he taking me back to Hell to throw in that fucking prison for eternity again?” his sobs were beginning to become uncontrollable, feeling that mist trying its damnedest to take its grasp on him once more. “God _dammit_ ,” he whimpered, feeling Stan raising up on his knees and clasping him in a hug.  
  
“It’s gonna be okay, Kyle,” Stan murmured, rubbing his back comfortingly, feeling his own tears worming out. It’d been bad enough seeing Kyle incoherent and confused, seeing him realizing exactly where he was was something Stan was hoping would be bypassed, that he’d go right back to being his usual self. This was all so wrong. Kyle shuddered, wobbling a bit in his confined position and coughing slightly as the mist began to lightly settle. He groaned, shaking off his tears and looking over at Stan, his best friend’s heart sinking as that blank stare began to glaze back over him. “Dammit, Ky,” he sighed. “I wish we could figure out how to get this out of you.”  
  
Kyle just shrugged before sighing with him. “Laptop,” he whispered. Stan nodded, grabbing it and opening the screen, looking at him for further instruction. “T-translator,” he forced out.   
  
Stan raised his brow but nodded, pulling it up on Kyle’s browser. “I’m guessing you want to translate Latin?” he winced. Kyle blinked at him and Stan shrugged, “Cartman figured out when Damien brought you back these were Latin,” he pointed to his scars.   
  
Kyle blinked once more but nodded. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying to walk himself through his ritualistic ‘job’. He could figure out easily enough each piece of preparing himself to set out. Getting his old body back, clearing any pain and scars, summoning Damien’s creatures to get him to his destination. “O-okay,” he nodded. “Look up... _proxima hostia domini mei_ ,” he directed.   
  
Stan did so, grumbling. “Hang on, I have to have another damn page open to spell check this shit.” Kyle nodded, not in too much of a hurry. He was rather terrified to find out just what he’d been doing. After a few minutes of cross-checking, Stan cocked his head. “It means ‘my master’s next victim’.”  
  
Kyle bit his lip. He figured it’d be something like that. “Try...” he looked towards the ceiling, running through his nights again. Turn off the lights, isolate the room... “ _Ut eum se rutilo ignorantiam_.”  
  
Stan worked his way through, raising his brow. “You sure? It says ‘allow him to ignorance’.” Kyle blinked. His dream spell.  
  
“I think...i-it’s a different...variation,” he worked out. “It makes...people...think they’re d-dreaming.” He paused, shaking his head. “Fucking bastard,” he muttered, yelping as his body recoiled, the mist shaking from him once again. He shuddered, “God fucking _dammit_ can it make up its mind?!” he seethed, clenching his fists behind his back. “Either it takes me over or not! Jesus!”  
  
Stan stared at his outburst in a level of shock. “Would...would you rather it take you back over?” he asked worriedly.  
  
Kyle looked at him exhaustively. “Stan, I can’t keep doing this,” he pleaded. “I’m weak _enough_. Damien’s soul seeping in and out of me is just making me feel worse. My scars are throbbing and my head is fucking pounding and...” he slunk. “And I’m just so fucking tired. At this rate, yeah, I’d rather it just fucking take me over. I’d rather just be a confused fucking puppet and not know that I’m going to be going back and forth and hurting like I am.” Stan’s eyes welled with tears once more but he shook them off. Kyle was in enough pain, he didn’t need to pile on the guilt on top of it all.   
  
Stan rubbed his arm a bit, “Do you need to...take...a break?” he winced.  
  
Kyle laughed softly, “From what? Just fucking waiting for Damien to come back? No. No I need to figure this shit out.”  
  
He nodded, “All right. What next?”  
  
He bit his lip, hoping to god this wouldn’t work without actually using his powers. “Try... _indica mihi etiam cupiditates mecum_.”  
  
“Whoa, slow down and repeat that one,” Stan blinked, trying to follow along as Kyle gradually repeated the phrase. He tongued over his lips, narrowing his eyes a bit as he worked. Kyle tried to look over, frustrated that his tired eyes refused to allow him to read. Stan nodded a bit, “Okay, it says ‘can you tell me the desires...’” he trailed off, looking at the Latin suspiciously before looking up at Kyle with wide eyes.  
  
“What?” Kyle raised his brow, trying to work his own problems out.  
  
“Kyle...where...were you last night?” he narrowed his gaze a bit in dazed confusion. Kyle’s jaw dropped a bit, quivering as his mind tried to figure out how the hell Stan could think to ask that question. “Because...I was trying like hell to avoid this topic,” Stan blushed, breaking his eyes from Kyle’s. “B-but I had a dream last night. A really... _weird_ dream. A-and you were there. And you said this,” he pointed to the words.   
  
“Stan...I...” he bit his lip, cringing a bit. How the hell could he possibly explain this to him? And how the hell did he remember?! The spell was supposed to make him forget, right?!  
  
Stan’s jaw dropped with his. “Kyle. Did...did we...”   
  
He winced, face flushing over and looking away as much as he could. “Get my trash can,” he muttered.  
  
“W-why?” he stammered.  
  
He looked at his legs and sighed, “Because you’re going to puke at this.”  
  
“Oh my God!” Stan shouted, getting to his feet and raking his fingers through his hair, pacing the floor in a complete panic. “Kyle! How did you...I-I mean I thought it was just a...but then what Kenny said in the synagogue and...dream...” his words were completely disjointed, that telltale nausea rising in his stomach. Kyle watched him, filled with irrefutable guilt and his own wave of sickness as his best friend paced like a madman.   
  
“Stan...” he said, his voice cracking. “Stan I’m _so_ sorry,” he said earnestly. “But...but Damien...h-he’s been making me...a-and I don’t know _why_.”  
  
“Guess that makes three of us,” a voice popped up from the doorway. They both whirled to see Kenny leaning against the frame, giving a sad, awkward smile. He walked into the room, grabbing Stan and stopping his furious walk, leading him back to his spot beside Kyle. He kneeled in front of the dumbfounded redhead and sighed, giving him as well of a grin as he could manage. “How’re you holdin’ up, Babe?”  
  
“Me? What about _you_?!” he blinked.  
  
“Ah good,” he nodded. “Seems Damien has left the building?”  
  
“No, he’s still loitering in the lobby,” he sighed. “It’ll come back. It always does.” He looked at Kenny confusedly, “Ken, why did Satan tell you we had to do what we did?”  
  
He winced. “Do uh...do you really regret it that much? I kinda figured you wou-”  
  
Kyle shook his head briskly. “No. I don’t regret it. But I want to know why it had to be done.”  
  
Ken shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. His eyes hit Kyle’s collar and his face twisted into a vicious scowl. He let his fingers trace over the leather band, seeing Kyle’s devastated face and ripping them back, shaking himself out of his stupor. “Satan and I were supposed to talk about it...but apparently there’s some problem down in Hell,” he rolled his eyes. “He couldn’t talk to me before I came back.”  
  
“Fuck,” he groaned. He stared at the blonde for a moment before smiling softly. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said quietly. Kenny grinned sheepishly, leaning down and kissing him, both of them ignoring Stan’s vehement dry heaving.  
  
Kenny pulled back and sighed, “Wish I could say the same for you, Ky.” He stroked over the boy’s face, looking at the chains bounding him in a quaking rage.  
  
“Kenny, he _knows_ ,” Kyle said worriedly.  
  
The blonde jerked back and cocked his head. “Knows that we...?”  
  
He nodded. “Yeah, that’s why I’m fucking chained up,” he sighed. “Well that and...” he looked over at Stan, who was still a sickly, blanched mess. He looked back at Kenny and winced, “I guess I kind of cheated on you?”   
  
Ken let out a huff of a laugh and shook his head. “Kyle, I’m not fuckin’ dumb, okay? I know Damien’s been making you do this shit.”  
  
“But why?” Stan finally interjected.  
  
“Good question,” Kyle muttered. “Get the laptop again.” Stan did so, swallowing down his vomit and looking at the redhead expectedly. He took a deep breath, hoping it wouldn’t actually do anything without physical contact. “ _Hoc animae pertinet ad dominum meum_ ,” Kyle transcribed. Kenny and Kyle both watched as the noirette worked, giving each other worried glances.   
  
Stan’s fingers stopped, his face falling drastically. “‘This soul belongs to my master’,” he read, both him and Kenny slowly raising their eyes up to the redhead.  
  
Kyle started shaking his eyes flittering around like trapped butterflies. “ _Oh my god_ ,” he whispered, a threadbare terror that seemed to fill the room with stifling anxiety.  
  
“Kyle, Kyle, Babe, it’s okay,” Kenny worriedly reassured him, reaching up and grasping him in a hug, running his fingers through his hair. “It’s okay, I promise. Dami-”  
  
“No!” he cut him off, burying his head into Kenny’s shoulder and shaking like a leaf. “I-I...they...” he couldn’t finish, breaking into rabid sobs. That mist began settling again and he welcomed it. He welcomed anything to help dull this away from him, to give him the possibility of forgetting, of being a mindless drone set out to do as Damien commanded. He was ruining lives the same way his own was ruined, he was handing people over to the devil just to keep himself on Earth...He choked a bit on his collar, ignoring it and trying to meld down into Kenny’s attempted comfort, letting the warmth of his loving embrace wash over him. He knew deep down that this could be the last time he could have it. He didn’t care why Damien made him do it, he didn’t _care_ what his punishments were. He couldn’t be the one to do this to other people, to let them fall into the traps that his master had set.  
  
He knew that for the second time, he was giving up and going to fall back into Damien’s prison. However, the thought gave him a bit of resurgence, a flicker of comfort in his own skin even as his soul felt itself tearing apart. It was foolish to let himself suffer like that, it was ludicrous to stand on the front lines of a war armed with only himself. But, it was something that only Kyle would do.  
  



	21. Chapter 21

**Present Day - Week 23**  
  
Just under a week had passed, but to Kyle, it felt like a _lifetime_. His body was beginning to react to being without his energy. It’d started the night before, when Kenny and Stan had both long since passed out on his floor to either side of him. He couldn’t stop shaking, despite his best efforts so as to not wake the two of them with an incessant rattling of his confinement. Damien’s cloud still hadn’t settled from the week before, his eyes blank and staring off past his room into the hallway, concentrated on the sinister shadow of the stair’s hand-railing lit by a nightlight. Dawn was just beginning to creep into the room, everything alit with a rosy glow that made him shudder. It was too close for comfort: being chained in a reddened room, nothing but stillness to keep him company. He was sweating profusely, his body racked by tremors. His breathing was erratic, blinking out of control. Everything about him was just screaming, and, once again, he couldn’t do a goddamn thing about it.  
  
He let out a particularly violent jerk, his throat snaring in its collar and choking him. He quickly put himself back into place, unable to control his rasping coughs, gasping for air that he couldn’t seem to find. He didn’t even notice as Kenny awoke with a start and sat up beside him. A hand fell onto his back and he flinched, unprepared for touches before the familiar softness of Kenny’s working hand lulled him into as much calm as he could find in his vast sea of torment. He opened his eyes and looked over at him, taking large, desperate breaths.  
  
“ _Ken_ ,” he wheezed, cold shakes beginning to overcome his being.  
  
Kenny watched him in complete pity, bringing himself closer over to the boy and wrapping soothing arms around him. “Shh,” he whispered. “I gotcha.” He gently rocked him back and forth, letting Kyle’s head fall exhaustively onto his shoulder. “If you want, I can stay like this and you can get some sleep,” he suggested softly.  
  
Kyle shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “H-he’ll...” he couldn’t finish, too distracted by his body’s violent reactions.  
  
“God, Ky,” he said in disbelief, kissing his temple lightly. “I’m so sorry.”  
  
Kyle flickered his eyes to him and shook his head. “Stop apologizing,” he forced out. “N-not your...fault.”  
  
Kenny stared at him for a few moments before sighing, taking off his tshirt to the confusion of the boy in front of him. He started using it to wipe the prominent sweat off of Kyle’s body. “It is,” he murmured. Icy blue eyes fell into a dark shade Kyle had never seen before. “I-I’m the one...who told Damien about you,” he admitted, voice cracking and tears beading his eyes as he ran the shirt over Kyle’s scars. “If I had just...shut the fuck up, he never would’ve touched you.” He stopped his wiping and looked at the redhead, the loss in his face clearly etched under messy blonde locks. “I’m _so_ sorry,” he repeated. “I never wanted you to get hurt. I never-”   
He stopped as Kyle weakly pushed forward, pressing their lips together. Damien’s anger be damned, Kyle wouldn’t have another word like that coming out of Kenny’s mouth. They slowly pulled back from each other and took shaky breaths. “You didn’t...know,” Kyle reminded him. “D-Damien...is...fucking c-crazy,” he narrowed his eyes, nostrils beginning to flair. Kenny watched in astonishment as that blank look became sharper, Kyle grating the inside of his lip like a man on a mission. Kyle groaned, shaking his head as thoughts began pouring in once again like a hurricane. They made him dizzy, stumbling on his pin-pricking legs. “Jesus,” he whimpered.  
  
“It’s when you get angry,” Kenny said quietly, watching him going through the motions of his ascension.  
  
 “H-huh?” he tried looking at him, still blinded in bewilderment.  
  
“When you get angry at Damien, when you start acting like yourself again...you lose him,” he observed. Kyle blinked a bit, looking down in thought. He was right. Through the constant ups and downs he’d been going through the last month, he hadn’t been able to piece together the clues. But there it was, staring him in the face. His stomach interrupted his thought process, cramping in his withdrawal and making him cry out softly. It hurt so badly, he’d forgotten how utterly terrible being subjected to this kind of treatment was. Kenny helped stabilize him, grating his lip worriedly. “Ky, you have to eat,” he insisted.  
  
He shook his head. “Not food,” he gasped out. “Withdrawal.” The cramp lessened and he took a heavy groan of a breath, setting himself back up and staring at the concerned blonde. Questions were finally coming back to him, and answers needed to get out into the open air. “Ken,” he tongued over his lips. “How are you okay?”  
  
“I’m not,” he raised his brow. “You think I like seeing you hurt, Dude?”   
  
“No, no,” he sighed. “I mean, after we...ya know,” he winced a bit with a blush that made Kenny smirk.  
  
“Come on, Ky,” he teased. “Just say it. Say how I rocked your world.”  
  
Kyle gave him a small answering smirk and huffed out a laugh. “Ass. Don’t think yourself so high and mighty.”  
  
“You loved it,” he winked, leaning forward and brushing over Kyle’s brow with his lips.  
  
Kyle blushed again before shaking it off. “A-anyway. Everyone else I said that phrase to, they...uh...aren’t doing so well,” he cringed a bit.  
  
Kenny’s eyes widened a bit. “Wait, the guys...is _that_ why they’ve been sick?” he gaped. Kyle nodded in embarrassment, the blonde still looking at him in awe.  
  
“DUDE YOU SLEPT WITH FATASS?!” Stan’s voice broke through them suddenly. They both yelped as Stan quickly sat himself up, that nauseated feeling coming back full-force. “Dude!”  
  
“Well I didn’t exactly have a fucking choice, Stan,” he hissed. “In case you’ve forgotten, Damien kind of fucking _owns_ me. I do what _he_ tells me to do.”  
  
Stan’s face dropped from sickness to despair in an instant. “Kyle, Damien does _not_ own you!”  
  
Kyle looked between the both of them and let out a deep sigh. “Yes. He does. I spent...two fucking years telling myself otherwise...I hate it. I fucking _hate_ it. But I don’t get a choice in the matter. Damien’s my goddamn master and I just have to live with it.”  
  
“No you don’t,” Ken said stubbornly. “We’ll get you out of his fucking hands and back to how you’re supposed to be.”  
  
He frowned and shook his head. “Do you remember the day I was brought back?” he asked quietly. The both of them nodded with a cold chill running up their spines, remembering the absolute horror at finding Kyle the way he was. “When you came up here to see me...I wasn’t sleeping. Damien had me under some kind of...trance?” he guessed with a shrug. “But I could hear _everything_ ,” he tongued over his lips. “And...and I know that either I stay with him like this, or I _die_ with him. Either way...this shit is eternal,” he laughed stodgily. Kenny and Stan looked at each other helplessly, both of them sinking towards the floor. “This is just the way things are,” he murmured. “He’s Master, I’m ‘Pup’ or ‘Doggie’ or ‘Phoenix’ or ‘Whore’ or whatever he wants to call me,” he rolled his eyes.  
  
Stan bit his lip, “Kyle, there’s gotta be _something_ we can-”  
  
“No, Stan,” he interjected impatiently. “I did _everything_ I could when he had me in that fucking prison. I screamed, I insulted, I attacked, I begged, I submitted...” his shoulders dropped all they could and he sniffled tiredly. “He’s always going to be in the lead. He has powers that I don’t. He has every advantage over me. I just need to get back in his good graces and it’ll be tolerable,” he muttered. He looked up at his ceiling and tried to stop his goddamn shaking, letting Kenny resume patting him down with his cotton shirt. “Back to...the guys,” he winced. “I-I ruined their lives,” he murmured guiltily.  
  
 “Ky, you didn’t _know_ what you were doing,” Kenny insisted.  
  
“I think on some level I did,” he shrugged. “I mean, every time I...did _that_ ,” he shuddered, “it felt like someone reached into my chest and just jump started me...” he licked over his lips. “Damien said something about getting your soul,” he looked at Kenny confusedly.  
  
Ken shrugged, “I have no idea, Dude. All I know is Satan told me to say something to you and it’d make you say your magic words or whatever. Next thing I know, I’m jizzing in your ass and dying.”  
  
“Dude,” Stan scrunched his nose in distaste. “TMI much?” Kenny chuckled and shrugged again, both of them looking to see a very thoughtful looking Kyle. “There’s a look I missed,” Stan smirked. Kyle looked at him and cocked his head and he laughed. “I miss nerdy Kyle,” he rolled his eyes amusedly.  
  
“Always lookin’ like ya got a migraine from our stupidity,” Ken winked.  
  
Kyle chuckled, “Well, some things never change...” he trailed off and tongued over his lips. “So I...uh...” he blushed again.  
  
“Fuck dudes,” Kenny continued smoothly, getting a nice smack on the back of the head courtesy of Stan.  
  
“Thank you, Stan,” Kyle nodded, ignoring Ken’s whining protests. “So I do that, say my magic words, and Damien gets a portion of their soul...” That sounded horribly familiar, like a tale he’d heard a long time ago. He looked down, scanning the floor before before his eyes snapped back open. “Oh my fucking god I’m a succubus,” his jaw dropped.  
  
Stan blinked at him a bit, “Aren’t succubus’ girls?” he raised his brow.  
  
“Succubi,” Kenny corrected. They both looked at him in with startled faces and he shrugged, “Hey, you go to Hell as often as I do and you learn this shit. Anyway, Ky’s right. Succubi go after men. And...uh,” he winced. “I’ll leave the last part out, but either way he’s right.”  
  
“Wait, what last part?” Stan asked curiously.  
  
Ken looked at Kyle who tinged with pink but shrugged him on. “Succubi kinda _get_ fucked...ya know...take it?” he hinted.   
  
“Oh my god,” Stan covered his face with his hand and shook it. “Holy mother of _god_ why did I ask that?”  
  
Kenny laughed, “Because you’re a fuckin’ moron,” he slapped his arm tauntingly before his face dropped back down seriously. “But why make you a succubus?” he asked the redhead.  
  
“Because he gets that portion of the soul,” he murmured, eyes flickering across the floor. “And I _have_ part of his soul so it increases its hold over me. That’s why he can feel it being received and so can I.”  
  
Stan placed his cheek in his palm and cocked his head at the boy. “But if he’s...ya know...getting stronger, why are you getting better?”  
  
Kyle shrugged, “I don’t know. And I’m not sure why he’d need me to keep giving him more energy to begin with. His soul pretty much had me. Why need to increase it?”  
  
Kenny perked, “Maybe your soul is stronger here than it was in Hell and he can’t keep it down as easily. I mean, Satan told me once that living mortal souls are super fucking powerful, and having them down in Hell just messes with their processing system.”  
  
Stan quirked his brow, “Processing system?”  
  
He shrugged, “It’s a business, Dude. Everyone gets recorded and whatnot,” he waved his hand dismissively.   
  
Kyle was just getting more and more confused by the minute, each little strand of new information seeming to wrap around his already captive throat. “But...I’m not _technically_ alive...am I?”  
  
Ken shrugged, “I think you’re in the same category as me now. But I go down there when my soul is, ya know, dead. You were taken down there alive and Damien’s soul is technically dead.”  
  
The redhead blinked rapidly, his cleared mind putting together pieces as well as he could. “So...maybe _that’s_ why I’m back,” he bit his lip in thought. His eyes widened a bit. “I remember,” he whispered. The both of them leaned in quizzically, heads cocked. “Damien was...something about Satan,” he narrowed his gaze a tad, trying to find the damn memory. “He got angry...” he gasped a bit in realization. “I was his _secret_ ,” he said. “I told him that his dad would let me go and he got angry and kept kicking me...” he looked back up at his befuddled friends. “I must have been fucking up the system. Satan must have told him he _had_ to send me back.”  
  
Kenny nodded excitedly, “I wouldn’t be surprised. Satan’s on your side 100 percent, Dude.”  
  
Stan looked at him suspiciously, “Why wouldn’t he be on his _son’s_ side?”  
  
“Because Damien’s a piece of shit,” he scoffed. “Satan’s pretty chill when it comes down to it. He hates seeing mortals suffer. That’s why torture’s so lenient,” he shrugged. “I served mine when I was like, nine and that was the end of that. Every other time it’s been smooth sailin’ for my soul,” he grinned cheekily.  
  
“That reminds me,” Kyle frowned, studying the blonde’s face a bit. “Every other guy I did that spell to got sick. Why are you so happy or whatever?”  
  
Kenny shrugged, “I’ve been wonderin’ that, too.”  
  
“Maybe your soul regenerates like your body?” Stan suggested.   
  
Kenny’s eyes widened, turning back and looking at the floor thoughtfully. He nodded a bit, “Maybe,” he agreed. “I mean, it makes sense. When I come back to life, _everything_ is back to tip-top performance or whatever.”  
  
Kyle stared at him a bit. “That’s why it had to be tested,” he said quietly, waiting for Kenny’s blue eyes to lock in his own. “Satan wanted to see if you were, in a way, _immune_ to my spell.”  
  
He smirked and gave him a saucy wink, “Babe, I ain’t _ever_ been immune to your spells.”  
  
“Cut the cheesiness, McCormick,” he frowned. He turned his head a bit and looked over his shoulder down at his right arm, the white veins beaming softly in the dawn’s light. “Damien said that the black markings on my left arm are my ‘progress’, whatever that means,” he knit his brows together. “But what are the white ones?” He turned back to his friends and took a deep breath, trying to ignore another stabbing pain in his abdomen. “H-he saw ‘em the night he chained me up. He seemed almost...worried.”  
  
Stan perked up a bit, “Maybe that means that you’re almost out of his control.”  
  
He shook his head, “I have this feeling that that’s not entirely true. If the ritual he did on me _can’t_ be broken then...” he sighed tiredly, slinking down all he could in his state. This was ridiculous. Two years of questions were flying back to him at the speed of sound, his nerve-wracked body trying desperately to keep himself under control amongst it all. He quirked his brow a bit, lips twisting in thought. He turned to Kenny and bit his lip. “You said there was a problem in Hell when you were trying to find Satan?”  
  
Ken nodded, “Yeah, he was out of his office, which like, never fucking happens.”  
  
“And Damien hasn’t come to see me all week,” he cogitated softly. He bit his lip, looking back up at the two of them with worried eyes. “If Satan’s on my side and Damien’s not here...it means they’re fighting to see where I stay.” It was disturbingly clear to the three in the room, all of them swimming in the uneasy knowledge that Kyle’s fate rested in the hands of whichever demonic entity came ahead in the battle for his soul. Kyle couldn’t help but wonder, however, if either option would truly set him free.  
  


* * *

  
  
**Day 638**  
  
  
He hurried up the main gate, stance tense and temper threatening to burst. His mind was in a frenzy, claws digging into the flesh of his palms. Closing his eyes, Damien could clearly see what had befallen his beloved pet: Kyle was curled up on his prison floor writhing. He was clutching at his chest, gasping for air and completely unhinged. Something was wrong, something was _very_ wrong. He grunted, picking up his pace and heading up to the watch tower over the entrance gates of Hell. “Gragor!” he shouted.  
  
The demon looked from his post and hopped down, gray wings fluttering to cushion his fall to the ashy floor. “Yes, Master Damien?”  
  
“I need to talk to Timpetan and you’re coming with me,” he said directly, turning on his heel and beginning to walk away without another word.  
  
He heard Gragor hurriedly shouting for another demon to take his place at the post before scurrying to catch up to Damien’s side. “Has something happened, My lord?”  
  
“My angel’s wings have been ripped off and he’s being beaten to death with them,” he muttered, baring his teeth angrily. This was ridiculous. He’d accomplished what he’d wanted. He’d gotten Kyle broken down to the barest essence of what made somebody human...but something felt wrong about it. He had to do something, had to see just what effect this ritual truly held over a victim’s soul before he began to panic. “Where is Timpetan?” he ordered.  
  
“Probably off and away in the fourth circle, Sir, it’s his usual post,” Gragor said, watching the boy carefully. There was an unusual air about him, his posture was tensed, his fangs were clenched, his fists were curling and uncurling amongst each other. He was worried.  
  
“Come on then,” he snapped, grabbing Gragor’s arm and transporting the both of them down through the main layer, sinking through the void and landing in the land of the rapacious. He looked around, red eyes glowing as he searched for his target. “He’s over towards the sentencing area,” he murmured, beginning once more to briskly walk off with Gragor trailing behind him.  
  
 “My lord, why do you need me to help you?” he asked curiously. Damien never asked him along on personal business, it was always just assumed he was never invited to such moments.  
  
 “Because I need _you_ to control my temper,” he said impatiently. “If Timpetan tries his bullshit ‘stepping-around-the-bush’ tactics, I may lose my control and snap his neck and banish his dumb ass to purgatory. I need you to intervene should I begin to approach him lest I lose my only chance at getting answers. You have my permission to grab me if need-be.”  
  
Gragor blinked, nodding slowly. “Y-yes, My lord,” he said. This was beyond what he was expecting today. He was more than ready for another uneventful shift of watching souls and taking bets with other demons on which ones would crack first. This was highly unorthodox on every level he could think of. But he knew well enough that his protests and concerns did not matter, what mattered was getting whatever Damien was after.  
  
The antichrist sneered as they approached the center of the layer, eyes scanning along looking for his target. “Ah,” he nodded curtly. “Timpetan, c’mere!” he shouted. A tall, lithe demon turned on his heel, blank gray eyes blinking in surprise at his caller. The slender, scaled monster walked over, a good three feet towering above Damien. Nonetheless, the fear was there in the demon’s stare.  
  
“Yes, Master Damien?” he asked, giving a small, respectable bow.  
  
Damien curled his finger, “Come with me. I need to talk to you.” He turned on his heel and Timpetan blinked over at Gragor, who gave a small shrug. He knew it was related to Kyle, but what had him so worked up was far beyond what Gragor could possibly know. They followed him through the thrall of people, watching amusedly as he impatiently shoved souls out of his way to make it towards his destination. He led them both down and through the circle, the golden sky and ground clashing angrily against Damien’s red eyes scanning about. “This will work,” he said as they reached a clearing beyond the borders set up for the souls. He turned, crossing his arms and staring up at Timpetan with narrowed eyes. “I need you to tell me how your Binding of Souls ritual went, how your victim is doing,” he said lowly.  
  
The demon blinked and shrugged, “Went as expected, My lord. She’s still mine.”  
  
He nodded, “Yes, I’m well aware. But how exactly did she react when you performed the ritual on her?”  
  
He frowned a bit in thought. “Well it’s been a few thousand years,” he chuckled. “But...she reacted just fine. It hurt her just a bit for a few months but it was nothing she couldn’t stave through, Sir.”  
  
He bit his lip angrily, holding up his hand. The demons watched as he let a clear vision of Kyle appear into their view. The both of them dropped their jaws a bit, watching as Kyle screamed and thrashed around, his body convulsing. His hair was completely soaked, brows knitted and his mouth agape in pain. The telltale sheen of sweat was clearly poured over his body, his weakened hands coming up, scratching at his chest furiously; Like he was trying to reach straight into his ribcage and rip whatever was in there _out_.   
  
Gragor couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight, feeling for the first time in his eternal span of tormenting mortals, a sliver of _pity_. “M-master Damien...is _that_ -”  
  
“Yes,” he spat, watching with a concentrated face as Kyle continued to rattle about. He watched his pet’s pretty face, lost in complete agony. This wasn’t the same. This wasn’t watching Kyle breaking under his thumb, this was watching something that even Damien himself couldn’t understand that was literally eating him alive. He hated to admit, the demon _loathed_ the idea of it being true, but he was terrified. He was losing his pet, losing his hard work, watching his angel not only fall from grace, but be torn to shreds through the atmosphere upon his descent. He turned back to Timpetan, who was still staring in shock at his redhead. “Timpetan, your woman never suffered like this?” he demanded.  
  
He shook his head, “No, never,” he said softly, finally breaking his stare to look down at Damien a bit. “My lord, do you know why it’s happening?”  
  
“Of course I don’t!” he screamed, moving towards him before Gragor gently grabbed his arm and held him steady. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, trying to retain _some_ speck of his dignity. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be coming to _you_ , I’d be fixing it so he wouldn’t be suffering like this!”  
  
Timpetan raised his brow, looking back and scanning over Kyle’s naked body, the chains still loosely wrapped around his wrists, and the purely vile collection of horrendous markings coating his pasty skin. “Looks like he’s been suffering awhile, hasn’t he, My lord?” he said softly.  
  
He flinched as Damien’s face honed in on him with rage. “It was _training_ ,” he spat. “That little pup was too stubborn!” he pointed at the image accusingly.   
  
Gragor gently led him back a few steps from the baffled demon. “This mortal’s stubbornness was something he enjoyed, Timpetan,” he said lowly. “Just as we enjoy beating it out of them,” he waved aimlessly back towards the torturing grounds. “Remember who it is you’re talking to before being so blunt,” he raised his brow in warning.  
  
Timpetan cleared his throat and nodded, “My apologies, Sir. This is just...quite a sight,” he murmured, his eyes looking back over Kyle curiously. “When did he pass on?”  
  
“He didn’t,” Damien answered with a stony face. “I took him from Earth alive.”  
  
Timpetan raised his brow. “So he’s-”  
  
“Half living and half dead,” he rolled his eyes, taking a heavy breath. “He’s been fighting it for well over a year now, but just yesterday he...gave his final act of submission and it just...” he trailed off, watching Kyle screaming, fingernails beginning to draw blood over his markings as he fought.  
  
“Ah,” he nodded. “Yes, when my dear Ila gave her last fight about a month in, the spell worked much quicker. It was a fairly short process and gave her nothing but slight discomfort. However...” he quirked his lips a bit in thought, “she was dead when I got to her. And you said he’s been fighting for a year, My lord?”  
  
He nodded, crossing his arms and staring down at the dirt, his neck hair bristling at the sound of Kyle’s cries. “I slowly worked him down to his edge and pushed him off. He fell so slowly at first but now he’s plummeting towards the fucking ground and I can’t fucking catch him,” he snarled. “I tried a fucking strength incantation and everything, but all he can do is scream and cry and roll around in pain! He wasn’t even aware that I was _there_ ,” he spat.  
  
He blinked and scratched at his dark scales a bit. “Perhaps you should speak with your father on the matter,” he suggested. “I truly don’t know what to tell you, My lord, I apologize.”  
  
He let out an irritable sigh, running his fingers through his dark hair in frustration. “My father doesn’t exactly _approve_ of what I did,” he grumbled.   
  
Gragor chuckled a bit, “I would imagine so, Sir. Lord Satan has a soft spot for mortals that none of us do, especially if they’re involved with that McCormick kid.”  
  
Damien took a deep breath, taking another look at his suffering pet before waving the vision away. “Perhaps I feel no way or the other with other mortals...but this one is different. This one is mine,” he said before turning on his heel and walking away from the demons who watched him, stunned into an eerie silence. Damien slowly made his way towards a separate clearing, sinking himself up through the layers. He took a deep breath as he emerged in the second circle, listening disinterestedly to the sounds of moans and screams echoing around him. The heavy smell of lust and guilt was overpowering, acrid and sharp.   
  
He shuddered a bit, walking into the barrier he’d laid before Kyle’s separate prison, relishing in the sudden change of smells, of the deafening silence. He took a deep breath, putting his hand on the iron door, flinching a bit as he heard him screech from within. Something here just wasn’t _right_. Pushing his way inside, he immediately found Kyle on the floor, narrowing his eyes as he shut the door behind him. He made his way over and knelt down beside him, watching him writhing and running his fingers through the damp curls matted on his head. “ _M-master_ ,” Kyle croaked, choking and twitching, grabbing at Damien’s wrist desperately as the demon took his digging fingers off his chest.  
  
“What is it, my pet?” he murmured.  
  
“Help me,” he rasped, tears falling down his cheeks. “Please...please _help me_.”  
  
Damien’s lips parted a bit in shock, the words falling like a foreign language over his sharp hearing. Green eyes shone with such desperation like he’d never seen before out of the boy. This wasn’t just submission, this wasn’t just him being forced down to his lowest point. This was pure and utter _convalescence_.   
  
He took a deep breath, raising Kyle’s head and placing it on his lap, still running his fingers through his hair. “I never knew seeing you so broken would be so worrisome, my pet,” he said quietly, his voice washing over Kyle in a lathering wave of his only possible comfort. He watched him and stroked over his sweat-stained cheek, brushing a dusting of tears from off his lashes, shining like stars amidst the dark forest hiding beneath them. Damien swallowed dryly, a stark realization forming over him. He’d finally cut down that forest, a complete massacre of every ounce of life that once thrived in those eyes. “Something about you,” he muttered, shaking his head with a chuckle. “My father was cast from heaven as an angel,” he said softly, tousling his curls. “But even he did not suffer as you. Perhaps angels are not as invulnerable as one would think, hm?” he asked rhetorically, heaving a deep sigh.  
  
Kyle weakly reached up, grasping Damien’s hand from his hair, clinging onto it tightly. He quivered on Damien’s lap, fingers anemically wrapping around the demon’s own. “ _Please_ ,” he whispered, eyes closing and energy seeping out of him at a dangerously fast rate. “ _Master...please_.”  
  
Damien stared at their hands, nodding to himself silently. This was what he wanted. He wanted Kyle to call him for help, to realize that he was the only hope for anything that he could ever receive. He’d earned this, found himself being the only light in Kyle’s fading eyes, being the only thing in his entire _world_. He sighed, placing his free hand on Kyle’s bleeding chest and frowning. His soul wasn’t much further than it was the day before, there was still a decent amount of Kyle’s left to take before it was on the edge. But Kyle couldn’t continue like this. He’d go catatonic _without_ the takeover, he’d be nothing but a breathing doll, lying on the floor and unable to complete the slightest bit of movement. It was the furthest thing from what Damien ached for.  
  
“Don’t worry, my angel. I’ll figure it out,” he whispered, leaning down and kissing his forehead a bit, watching Kyle’s head loll to the side as unconsciousness finally did the impossible and snagged him despite Damien’s hold. Damien kept him propped up on his lap, watching Kyle’s hand slip off his own and fall limply to his side. He let the back of his fingers trail up Kyle’s pretty face, gently tracing up his burning cheekbones to under his dampened eyes. This wouldn’t do. He wouldn’t just let his pet waste away in a way that his master couldn’t control. He frowned deeper, looking towards the iron door with knit brows, his fingers subconsciously wrapping tighter around his captive. He was out of options. Only his father could get Kyle out of this mess, get him back to at least a _fraction_ of his vibrant, glowing self and back where he belonged: kneeling beside his master.


	22. Chapter 22

**Present Day - Week 24**  
  
“He’s going to regret this, I swear it,” Damien growled, baring his fangs and tapping his foot impatiently. He cursed under his breath, turning and briskly pacing in front of his father’s desk. Two weeks. For _two weeks_ his father had managed to avoid him. He was up to something, Damien could tell that easily enough. But _what_?  
  
He paused as a large burst of fire appeared behind the large desk, turning and glaring as his father appeared, sitting in his chair with his hands folded in front of him. “Ah, Damien,” he smirked. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”  
  
“You know _exactly_ what I’m here for, Old man!” he spat, shaking in his place. “Why the **fuck** have you been avoiding me?!”  
  
 He shrugged listlessly, thumbing over pages spread out in front of him. He inwardly sighed. Playing hideaway from Damien had backed up his work something fierce. This would take _forever_ to sort out. But it had to be done. He’d bought Kyle all the time he needed, he was finally to a point where he could separate himself from Damien’s complete hold. He’d done precisely what needed done. He looked down to see his son still staring up at him expectantly, nostrils flaring, crossed arms tight against his body with claws tapping on his arm. He was furious. Good. “I don’t know whatcha mean, Dami,” he pouted a bit. “I’ve been pretty busy. I am the Devil after all, ya know.”   
  
“Yeah, which makes it _really_ strange that you weren’t hovering around where you do your fucking job of ruling Hell!” he snarled sarcastically.  
  
Another shrug. “Exactly, I rule. That means I do what I want and no one, not even you, can tell me otherwise,” he raised his brow superiorly. “Now, tell me what you need, Son. I’m a very busy man.”  
  
He took a step forward and slammed his hands on the desk. “I want you to tell me what the fuck is happening to my mortal, that’s what!”  
  
He cocked his head innocently, though his insides were doing tap dances of joy. It was working. Everything he’d worked for was finally coming to fruition. “Whatever do you mean?”  
  
“Oh don’t even _try_ that naivety bullshit with me,” he rolled his eyes. “You forget that I can read you like a fucking book.”  
  
He chuckled, leaning his head into his palm and watching Damien with a small smirk. “Oh? You think you know me that well, do ya?”  
  
He nodded curtly, “I know that you have a soft spot for mortals,” he narrowed his eyes. “I know you like McCormick and do _everything_ to help him in his times of need,” he rolled his eyes again. “And I know how you felt about me keeping Kyle. So I need you to tell me what the fuck is happening to him!”  
  
Satan leaned back, watching his son panting from his outburst with curious eyes. He was expecting this, just waiting for Damien to come to him and demand to know what was happening to Kyle. But this wasn’t pure fury, there was a hint of desperation in his stare that his father couldn’t take his eyes off of. He certainly wasn’t expecting that. He swiveled in his chair a bit and sighed. “Tell me what’s happening.”  
  
“He’s getting stronger,” he narrowed his eyes. “He’s not stuttering anymore, at least, not as often. He’s walking better. He’s...” he trailed off, looking down at the wood under him with narrowed eyes.  
  
“Becoming Kyle again?” he finished. Damien nodded and Satan smirked a bit. “But Damien, I thought that’s what you _wanted_ ,” he reminded him. “You didn’t want him to be a soulless doll, that’s why you came to me all those months ago.”  
  
Damien’s fist clenched and he began to tremor. “I wanted him _obedient_ , Dad,” he muttered. “I wanted him back to where he was the day before he began to fade! I didn’t want to have to start all the fuck over again with him!”  
  
Satan frowned, biting the inside of his cheek lightly. There was that risk. Damien could very easily lose his temper and whisk Kyle away somewhere to retrain him. That had to be avoided at all costs. “No, you didn’t,” he said firmly. His son’s red eyes raised to his and he set his face firmly. “Damien, I’m no fool. I heard you talk about Kyle before he finally broke. You didn’t _want_ to lose what he once was. You missed his fire.”  
  
Damien shied back a bit before regaining his stance. “I don’t want him slipping through my fingers, Pops!” he hissed. “It’s one thing to get his attitude back, it’s another to have him going behind my back and hiding in a synagogue to fuck McCormick!”  
  
Satan chuckled inwardly, making a mental note to himself to give Kenny a high five on his next trip down. “Him and Kenny, really?” he feigned surprise. “Good for them.”  
  
“GOOD FOR THEM?!” he repeated in a furious screech. “Dad! I _own_ Kyle! He doesn’t get to fucking choose to fucking mess around with someone without my permission!”  
  
Satan rolled his eyes. “He didn’t choose to, Damien. The Kyle that was there _before_ you interfered in his life was in love with Ken. If parts of him are slipping back, then those feelings will, too.”  
  
Damien’s mouth dropped a bit at the word. “Love?” he repeated, closing his jaw and clenching his teeth. “He doesn’t get to _love_ anyone but _me_!” he shouted, slapping a hand against his chest.  
  
His father rolled his eyes, half-unbelieving he was hearing his son behaving so childishly. “Damien, he’s never going to _love_ you, you idiot. You kidnapped him. You tortured him for years. Then you send him back home and have him fucking other guys for your benefit?” he raised his brow. “You think that’s going to result in love?”  
  
“No,” he groaned, slapping his forehead. “I mean, I don’t _need_ him to love me, I just need him to be _mine_ like I trained him to be.”  
  
Satan snorted and shook his head. “Ah, Damien. For someone whose job is working with mortals, you’re not all that knowledgeable.”  
  
“Whaddya mean?” he glowered.  
  
“I mean, mortals are powerful in their own right,” he shrugged. “Sure we can torture their sins out of them, but they never think they belong to us. They’re not dogs, Damien, contrary to what you’ve been calling Kyle.”  
  
He narrowed his gaze and let out an angry breath. “Funny. Kyle tends to tell me that he belongs to me just fine.”  
  
He groaned, rubbing his temple tiredly, “You trained him to or he didn’t get fed, Damien. Or you hit him or whatever,” he waved his hands around aimlessly. “You can never own a person, not a live one. Had you done the ritual when he was dead as it’s supposed to be done, yes, he would be yours. But now? There’s no way.” Damien’s shoulders sank a bit and he looked around the office, seeming as though he were completely lost. Satan couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of sorrow. He was still his son after all. “Damien,” he said softly, watching garnets rising back up to meet his stare. “Why are you so desperate to keep a hold on this boy?”   
  
“Because he’s mi-”   
  
“No,” he interrupted curtly. “Don’t give me that ‘because he’s mine’ crap. I know you’re possessive of your things but you’re going far and beyond to keep him under your control. What is it about him?”  
  
Damien paused, dropping his gaze to the desk and digging a claw into the varnish. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “I can’t figure it out for the life of me...but I want him to stay mine,” he said firmly, raising his eyes back up. “Dad, I’m _not_ going to lose him. I don’t care if he becomes a fucking husk anymore. He’s not escaping me.”  
  
Satan watched him carefully, the two of them staring each other down. Damien daring him to question him, Satan daring him to rush out to grab Kyle and bring him back. “No, you don’t,” the Beast finally sighed. “You wouldn’t be able to handle Kyle being nothing. We had this exact conversation months ago, Damien,” he reminded him. “You busted in here in complete panic telling me to fix him. I did. Now you’re coming in here yelling that he’s been fixed. What is it you _want_?” he stressed.  
  
Damien faltered a bit, blinking rapidly. What _did_ he want? A forked tongue darted out to swipe his upper lip, bringing it back in and biting down lightly with his fangs. This was a mess. Damien didn’t know where he wanted Kyle’s personality to be, all he knew for sure was he wanted him by his side, kneeling like the good dog he’d trained him to be. “I want Kyle,” he muttered.  
  
“You have him, Damien,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead exhaustedly. “Whether or not he thinks he belongs to you is moot at this point.”  
  
“Whaddya mean?”  
  
“I mean the ritual you performed is eternal,” he frowned. “He’s not getting out of your hold anytime soon. And _regardless_ of what his body is doing, the psychological damage you put on the poor kid isn’t going to leave.”  
  
“So what?” he blinked. “I have him but I don’t? Where is he in this fucking equation, Dad? And why is he getting stronger to begin with? My soul should be overpowering him, but he has another marker! One that can only be for his soul!”  
  
Satan smirked. “Oh, you mean, the one that you two _share_?” he raised his brow. Damien jerked back a bit and his jaw dropped once more in a stunned realization. Satan casually shrugged and leaned back into his chair, tapping his hoof on the ashy floor. “If your soul is getting a boost, then his is, too. Remember, your souls are conjoined now. They feed off of each other, and Kyle’s is getting the energy it needs to fight against yours. Remember, living mortal souls are extremely powerful, even more so on Earth than here. All his needed was the push to start fighting back.”  
  
Damien paused before his face fell into a blind rage. “You fucking _bastard_ ,” he hissed, tearing at his hair angrily. “You _knew_ this would happen! You planned this bullshit the whole fucking time!”   
  
Satan put that innocent pout back on, “I don’t know what you mean, Damien. I was just trying to help you keep your ‘dog’,” he air quoted. “I don’t know _why_ you’re complaining, though,” he raised his brow. “You have him out in the dog park but he’s still on your leash. His soul can never overpower yours.”  
  
Damien stopped ripping his claws through his thick black locks and blinked at his dad. “Seriously?”  
  
He nodded, though he hated to do so. “Seriously. He can balance the two of you out, but he’ll never be able to get stronger. Once your soul managed to meet the level of his own when you were ‘training’ him,” he rolled his eyes, “he lost that battle.”  
  
“So...he can’t...”  
  
“No,” he sighed in disappointment. “Kyle will never get rid of you...he’ll never be the true Kyle again,” he frowned. He knew though. He knew well enough that this was as good as it was ever going to get. He had to try to go for broke though, try to make it so Kyle could at least stay where he was, lest Damien try to drag him around and beat him down yet again. “Damien,” he got his attention yet again, seeing a victorious gleam back in his eyes. “He’s yours,” he said gently. “Don’t put him through more, you’ve done enough.”  
  
He crossed his arms and scoffed. “I don’t tell _you_ how to treat your property, Dad.”  
  
“Oh for God’s sake!” he exclaimed, getting to his feet and pacing behind his desk. “Damien, you have him. For all intents and purposes, you fucking _have him_.”  
  
“No,” he glowered. “Actually, he’s apparently a timeshare now. Because it seems McCormick has his dirty hands in him as well.”  
  
“So?” he raised his hands in exasperation. “‘Dogs’ are allowed to love the other people in their homes besides their main owners, aren’t they?”  
  
Damien blinked before growling, “It’s different, Dad! Kyle’s _falling in love with_ and _fucking_ McCormick, not just greeting him at the door!”  
  
“Son,” he slowed his pace and looked at him with heavy eyes. “You can’t change how a mortal feels about someone they care for. You tricked him. You showed him two different false realities about his family and friends, and look at him!” he wove his hand, showing Kyle chained up in his room. Damien watched with angry eyes as Kyle laughed hoarsely with Stan and Kenny, the sight of Ken leaning towards him and kissing him gently. Damien bit his lip, watching the small smile that he hadn’t ever gotten crossing over his pet’s face. “Damien, he’s caught in the middle,” Satan said lowly, watching with him. “He won’t let anyone feed him or give him water or help him be more comfortable with how you chained him...but his feelings towards his family and friends aren’t going to go away. He’s terrified of you, but they give him something that you _can’t_.”  
  
“Oh?” he huffed, watching the withdrawal racking through Kyle’s body, feeling a sinking pit in his stomach.  
  
“They give him true comfort,” he shrugged. “And after all you put him through, he needs it. Otherwise you’re going to be left with that broken Kyle that you begged for me to fix.”  
  
 Damien took a deep breath, watching Kyle’s soft smile, the light once more dimly shining in his eyes, the forest beginning to spread saplings under the fire he’d set around it. “What can I do?” he muttered. “What are my choices?”  
  
 Satan smirked a bit, watching Damien’s tense stance dropping slowly in defeat. “You can either bring him back here and let him, well, die in a sense. Let him wither into nothingness and have nothing more than a lifeless doll lying in a dark prison. Or...you let him stay up there, still under your thumb...but also share him. And that includes with Kenny.” He shrugged a bit. “Kyle’s a smart kid,” he reminded him. “He won’t forget your rules...but there are some that he’s just never going to conform to. Regardless of where you have him.”  
  
Damien looked away from the image of Kyle and kicked listlessly at the ground. “Either way I lose him.”  
  
“Either way, you _keep_ him,” he corrected. “Why not let you _both_ have a sliver of enjoyment out of the arrangement? He’ll be under your control, but you’ll still get to have that fire you enjoy so much. And if you’re _giving_ him something for once, he may be more apt to listen to you.” Damien sighed and his shoulders sunk, grating his lip. “Damien,” he got his son’s eyes back on him. “Let him have his wings back.”  
  
The boy blinked, a blush crossing over his face that nearly knocked his father for a loop. It was something he’d never seen on Damien’s profile before, looking so unusual against his typical mulling expression. The boy straightened out and stared his father dead in the eye. “I hope you’re happy with yourself, Old man.”  
  
He smirked, giving a nod. “I am, actually. I have you considering doing the right thing for the second time in your life. Make the right choice, Damien.”  
 He blinked before turning on his heel and walking out the door without another word, Satan watching him tiredly. Damien knew his options, he knew exactly what could be done from here with Kyle. The Beast glanced over at the vision still playing, watching Kyle as he shuddered in pain, giving Stan and Kenny a reassuring smile as he fought through it. Hopefully, he thought, Damien could do the same.  
  


* * *

  
  
**Day 640**  
  
“This is fucking ridiculous,” Satan muttered, rubbing his temple in aggravation. Who the hell would authorize for someone to be tortured for an extra two weeks just because he called the demon tormenting him a faggot? He groaned, leaning back in his chair tiredly. This job just didn’t pay enough. His ears perked to the door opening slowly, Damien poking his head in with a frown. “Well, Son,” he raised his brow in surprise. “Haven’t seen you for a few months.”  
  
“Yeah, well, I’ve been kinda preoccupied,” he grumbled, stepping in and lightly kicking the door closed. Satan narrowed his eyes a bit. He looked concerned, something that his father was not used to seeing.  
  
“What’s wrong, Damien?” he asked, pushing his paperwork aside.  
  
“Dad...Kyle’s...” he trailed off and twisted his face. He hated this. He hated asking his father for any kind of help, but he was completely lost as to his options. “H-he’s...” he groaned and waved his hand, showing the vision Kyle’s twitching form curled up on his floor. He was shining, skin waxy with sweat, little pained whimpers breaking from his throat.  
  
Satan watched with wide eyes, biting his lip. “What happened?” he asked.  
  
“I broke him,” he mumbled, waving the vision off and away, staring at the ground. “My soul is literally eating him alive...and it’s not to the brink yet like you said it had to be.”  
  
Satan smirked a bit before quickly dropping it back down into a serious, grave expression. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” he asked. “After all, you said watching him crumble was your goal.”  
  
He sighed in aggravation, running his fingers through his hair. “Apparently I was mistaken. I want him...cracked. Not shattered.”  
  
The Beast nodded, tapping a claw against his desk. “And what do you want me to do?”  
  
He shrugged, “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I don’t know _how_ to fix him. I tried a strength incantation but it just bounced off of him. But...if I send him back to Earth...”  
  
“You lose him,” he finished, relishing in Damien buying his lie with a subtle nod. This was perfect. Absolutely _perfect_. “You seem distraught, Son,” he pointed out.  
  
He looked up at him with tired eyes. “I don’t know what to do, Pops,” he repeated. “He’s my goddamn pet and I don’t know how to fix him!”  
  
Satan hummed in thought, stroking his beard for dramatic effect. “Well...you have two options here: Either you let him continue breaking like he is now or you send him back a little early and take your chances,” he shrugged.  
  
Damien looked at him skeptically. “Chances? There’s a possibility he _won’t_ break off of me?”  
  
He nodded. “A possibility, yes. But you’re on a time limit here. We have to get him prepared and send him back up to Earth by tomorrow.”  
  
“Tomorrow?” he repeated. “Why-”  
  
“Because the preparation for his job will take him a day to adjust to,” he shrugged. “He’ll be pretty out of it.” Damien just stared at him, nodding solemnly. “I’ll have to do the incantation,” Satan said. “Since the power will be going to you, however, I’ll need some blood.” Damien frowned, letting a knife appear in his hand before his father rolled his eyes. “You can wait until we’re a little closer to Kyle, Damien.”   
  
“Well sorry,” he sneered impatiently. “I want him fixed and I want it _now_...” he paused. “Wait, why can’t _I_ do the ritual?”  
  
“Because you don’t have all of your soul now,” he parried smoothly. “You need someone with their full power to turn one into a succubus. You should know that, Damien, you _had_ training.” He smirked as Damien crossed his arms and muttered, knowing full and well that the boy didn’t listen to any of his training. Deceiving the unprepared was always an easy enough feat, and Satan couldn’t have been more thankful for his son’s lack of drive with his work in that moment.  
  
Damien eyed him suspiciously, “What do you think I should do, Pops?”  
  
“I think you should take your chance,” he shrugged. “After all, look how far Kyle’s fallen. It’d take a lot of strength that he just doesn’t have to make him able to get back up.”  
  
Damien nodded, tonguing over his lips a bit. “Yeah. And even if he does start to rise back up, I can always just bring him right back down and grate him back into what he is now,” he grinned sadistically.  
  
Satan shook his head, “Is that really what you want, Damien? To have him floating back and forth between yours and not? I’d figure you of all people would want some more...stability in your prey.”  
  
He paused and quirked his lips a tad. “Well...So long as he agrees to remain mine I suppose having a bit of his kick back wouldn’t be _such_ a bad thing,” he shrugged dismissively, avoiding his father’s stare.  
  
Satan smirked amusedly. “Miss the fire, do you? What did I tell you Damien? I _told_ you you’d miss the challenge that Kyle gave you.”  
  
“Okay, Dad,” he rolled his eyes. “No need to fuckin’ rub it in. Yes, I miss him being a stubborn little shithead. Now can we _please_ work on fucking rectifying the problem before he’s a corpse?”  
  
Satan nodded, a devious gleam passing over his blackened eyes. “Of course.”  
  
 **...**  
  
Walking into the prison, Satan was hit with a wave of shock, the heavy aura of defeat and anguish so much more pertinent than the last time he’d seen Kyle. He grunted, holding his hand to the door and letting his eyes flash, putting a protective barrier around the room. He had to hide this all from his son. Luckily the boy had been willing enough to save Kyle that he’d believed his father telling him that his presence in the room would disrupt the ritual. Satan chuckled, putting his finishing touches on his barrier and nodding in approval. “Let’s see you spy on that, Damien,” he scoffed softly, holding the rag coated with Damien’s blood in his hand. He couldn’t help but smile a bit, remembering how quickly, how without hesitation his son had slashed open his hand to give him the power he needed. All for the poor boy curled up in a fetal position on the floor.  
  
He sighed, making his way over to the prisoner and kneeling beside him. He put his large hand in Kyle’s hair and the boy coughed. “ _Master?_ ” he questioned, eyes closed in pain and his voice nothing but a threadbare wisp in the stoic air.   
  
“No, Kyle,” he said softly. “I’m not your master.” Weakly, Kyle turned his head, his eyes opening slightly and his lips parted. Satan gulped a bit, seeing the pure blankness, how his pupils were pinpoints in the midst of Kyle’s agony, drowning in a sea of green. His eyes scanned exhaustedly over him, trying to piece together exactly what was in front of him before he gave up, his head falling back to its side. “I’m sorry I had to do this to you, Kyle,” he murmured, turning Kyle onto his back and watching his face contorting. He sighed. “If I’d let you just keep going at the rate you were...Damien would’ve gotten you completely...I’m sorry it hurts so much.” He watched in pure sympathy as Kyle lurched a bit with another spasm, choking on air he couldn’t find. It hadn’t been too difficult, sneaking around Damien and getting to Kyle on a rare occasion that he slept months beforehand. Sticking him with a simple timed anguish spell locked from Damien’s prevention was a simple task all that time ago. Getting Kyle to get to the point where it’d kick in however, was not.  
  
“You’re a strong kid, you know that?” he murmured to the boy. “I thought it would’ve kicked in in a few weeks...but you just kept on fighting,” he chuckled. “Pretty impressive. It was supposed to hit when you finally broke your last line of defense...I never expected it to take this long.” Kyle’s eyes opened once more, staring at him with deadened eyes. He was fading. He was fading fast. Satan held his hand over Kyle’s chest, “ _dissuo maledictione mea_ ,” he ordered, watching Kyle convulse for a moment before collapsing back onto the ground, panting, his muscles visibly losing their tenseness, his exhausted body slumping onto the stone.  
  
“All right,” he nodded in approval. “Kyle, can you hear me?” The boy nodded subtly and he grinned softly. “I’m going to do what I can to save you, okay?...but Kyle, you have to know,” he frowned. “I...I can’t save you completely. I’m sorry.” Kyle just looked at him, his expression flat. Satan sighed, shaking his head. “I had to hurt you,” he explained quietly, beginning to use the rag of Damien’s blood to run it down his face, straight down his forehead and nose, letting it run to a line down to his belly button. “It was the only way to get Damien to let me in here for the time to do this ritual,” he frowned, spreading Kyle’s arms to his sides and making another bloody line stretching from his wrists and across his chest. He tongued over his lip, drawing a circle around Kyle’s chest, his tattoo and Damien’s marker caught in the middle of the mess. With a careful, steady hand, he wrote out in blood over Damien’s tattoo, ‘ _minuere anima_ ’.  
  
He sighed, withdrawing the rag and setting it aside. “Kyle, I’m not going to bullshit you, this is going to make things very hard for you on Earth,” he warned. He watched a slight flash go through Kyle’s eyes at the word and smirked a bit. “I have to lessen your soul...you’re going to be losing enough so that Damien’s got you on the brink, do you understand?” Kyle just continued staring up at the ceiling, his mind completely blank aside from the word ‘Earth’ circling in his mind. Satan frowned, hoping against hope that Kyle still had enough of himself to fight off what he was going to have to do, placing his hand above the boy’s disturbingly thin chest.  
  
“ _Aperiet anima, patitur alios intra. Ipsi eius pugnabunt pro eo_.” Kyle’s eyes suddenly widened, his body taking on a devilish red glow. His mouth gaped, a guppy ready for the hook as he shook on the ground. He felt the briefest flashes of panic flicker through him, snuffed out as quickly as a candle in the wind. His chest rose towards Satan’s hovering hand, back arching off the ground as he floated upwards, his head falling back listlessly. Satan winced, feeling the power he was after seeping into his hand. He let out a long groan as it finished, Kyle collapsing back onto the stone, panting and looking around in terror. Satan clenched his fist, feeling parts of Kyle’s soul surging through him and sighing as the blood sank down into Kyle’s flesh.   
  
“Kyle,” he said firmly, green eyes flickering to him in fright. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I know that now you’re scared and confused and sick...but this _will_ help you,” he promised. He watched Kyle cowering from him a bit, knowing from that look in his eyes that the spell had worked. Kyle hadn’t the slightest idea of who he was. “What’s wrong?” he asked, through he knew the answer already.  
  
“W-where’s...my...master?” he whimpered, curling into himself and sniffling, tears beading his pretty eyes.  
  
Satan smiled sadly at him. This would be Kyle for a good amount of time, words and memories would do nothing but escape him until he could find himself again, until his soul started fighting to get him back. “He’ll be back in in a moment,” he assured him. “Kyle, you’re going to make it,” he nodded slowly at him. Kyle unknowingly followed the movement, those scared eyes unblinking and ready to scream for Damien if this unknown assailant came after him. Satan sighed, scratching his head listlessly. Taking so much of Kyle’s soul was a huge risk, but it was the only option. Pieces of people’s souls Kyle took during his ‘job’ for Damien would fill in the holes of his own. Mortal souls were strong on their own, but giving Kyle the chance to have more than one working against Damien’s would give him a hell of a chance to make it out of this with some shred of himself intact. His own soul was too damaged to make it terribly far, stacking a number against the opposition was his _only_ shot.   
  
He offered the redhead another small smile. “You’ll be back home tomorrow, Kyle,” he whispered. “I promise.” He touched Kyle’s forehead, muttering a very simple “ _aperta illae magicae Lilith_.” Kyle stared, his body giving a small jolt but nothing more. Satan lowered his hand and sighed. “Lilith refused to return to God,” he said quietly. “I can only hope that you’re not the same, Kyle. If anyone needs Him, it’s you.” He got to his feet, staring at the broken boy and shaking his head before dropping his barrier. “Damien!” he called, catching Kyle flinch violently in the corner of his eye from his volume and swallowing a dry breath. “It’s done!”  
  
The door opened and Damien stepped in, looking to see Kyle sitting up on the floor. Satan couldn’t help but notice the ghost of a truly happy smile crossing over his son’s face. He watched, his heart dropping a bit as Kyle began obediently clambering over to Damien, sitting in front of him and staring up at into his beaming gaze. “Good, _good_ boy,” Damien grinned, a whisper of gratefulness hiding under the tone. He began petting through his hair and Kyle sighed in relief, leaning forward a bit and leaning on Damien’s leg tiredly. He had his master. He felt safe again.  
  
 Satan watched the two of them for a bit, feeling nothing but pity for the poor confused redhead, but knowing well enough it was the only thing that could possibly get him out. He would just have to deal with being Damien’s true property for a few months. “Well, he took it rather well,” he said pointedly. “But we need to keep him down here to let it sink in until tomorrow.” He had to let Kyle’s soul weaken just a _touch_ more, let it open up to the possibility of getting latched onto easily. “He’ll have to find his first victim by tomorrow night, or he’ll start to slip from you right away,” he fibbed.  
  
“I think we can manage that,” Damien smirked, scratching Kyle’s head a tad. “Thanks, Pops,” he nodded.  
  
Satan nodded back, staring over the mess of the mortal at Damien’s feet and taking a deep breath. This was it. Kyle’s entire future depended on what little strength his soul could still carry. But he knew he had a hell of a chance. If he could hold off Damien for as long as he did, he could probably find himself again in no time. “It’s no problem, Son,” he murmured, blackened eyes glistening as he watched Kyle nuzzling against Damien’s leg. “No problem at all.”  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rough translations:
> 
> dissuo maledictione mea: undo my curse
> 
> minuere anima: Lessen soul
> 
> Aperiet anima, patitur alios intra. Ipsi eius pugnabunt pro eo: Open his soul, let others in. They will help him fight.
> 
> aperta illae magicae Lilith: Give him the magic of Lilith


	23. Chapter 23

**Present Day - Week 25**  
  
“Kyle, Kyle come on,” Kenny’s voice urged desperately, trying to push a glass of water in his face. The redhead gasped brokenly, shaking his head in disillusionment, trying to evade with as little space as he had. “Babe, you _have_ to drink something,” he begged. “It’s been three weeks!”  
  
“Can’t,” he rasped, eyes burning and muscles taut. “Master-”  
  
“No!” Stan interrupted, losing all hope of patience. He growled, grabbing Kyle’s head and holding it still, clenching his fingers around Kyle’s jaw and pressing in, forcing it open. Kyle whined, trying to squirm out of his hold. He couldn’t do this. Damien would know, he’d know! He clenched his eyes shut as Kenny tipped the glass between his captive lips, body melting at the delicious tang of the water on his tongue but refusing to let it go down his throat, opting to let it spill out over his chin and down onto his pajamas. The plan worked swimmingly until Stan forcefully shut his mouth and held onto it tightly, Kenny rubbing his throat.  
  
“Come on, Ky,” he urged, continuing to massage against the collar, gritting his teeth. Watching Kyle go without for so damn long had been killing him. And witnessing a nearly twenty minute coughing spell just sent him over the edge. He’d find a way to take Kyle’s punishment from Damien for himself, he couldn’t keep _watching_ this. Kyle’s throat convulsed from both the pressure and a built-up sob, opening and letting the water rush down his throat in liquid bliss. He blinked tears back, shaking his head frantically. Stan relinquished his hold and Kyle sniffled, looking at them both with teary eyes.  
  
“Do you _want_ him...to h-hurt me?!” he demanded with a cracking voice.  
  
“No,” Kenny shook his head, cupping his chin and kissing his lips softly. “I won’t let him, okay? But you needed _some_ kind of relief. The bastard hasn’t even been back, he’s probably busy trying to find his dad or something...” he brushed a wisp of bangs from Kyle’s face. “I’m going to protect you,” he promised, pressing their foreheads together, wishing against all hope and logic that he could take this from Kyle and just give it to himself, let him have _some_ reprieve.  
  
“Good luck with that one, McCormick,” that low, familiar voice penetrated through the three of them. They all looked in horror to see Damien standing on the opposite end of the room, eyes set in a furious glare.  
  
“Master, I-I didn’t _want_ to!” Kyle pleaded immediately, eyes wide as saucers. Damien sighed a bit to himself in relief. His father was right. The fear was _still_ there. He had to be somewhat thankful for that. He watched in slight amusement as Kenny and Stan moved themselves in front of the chained boy and he scoffed.   
  
“Really?” he quirked his brow. “What the fuck do you think you two can do? In case you forgot, you were there when I took him and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it.”  
  
“You’re not touching him, Damien!” Kenny sneered.  
  
He couldn’t help but snort a bit. “Oh yeah, I’m terrified, McCormick. Watch me shake,” he rolled his eyes and waved his hands, both of them flying off to either side of the room. He slowly walked over towards Kyle, ignoring their vehement protests and kneeled down in front of him, staring deep into his red and green eyes. They were full of pure terror. He snared the boy’s chin, feeling it tremble under his touch. “You’re not in trouble,” he said quietly. “Those two don’t seem to understand rules very well, do they, my pet?”   
  
“No, Master,” he agreed, a part of him sighing in relief. At least he wouldn’t be punished for _them_ being stubborn. “I’m...s-sorry,” he said softly, eyes shining in the afternoon light.  
  
Damien nodded a bit. “I know. You’ve been very well behaved staying like this, Pup,” he said. He waved his hand and the chains fell off, Kyle yelping as he collapsed into Damien’s chest. That familiar clawed hand came up and wrapped in his curls, soothingly petting him down and he took a long, shuddery breath.  
  
“GET OFF OF HIM, DAMIEN!” Kenny shouted, scrambling to get over to them, held down easily by Damien’s power.  
  
“Oh calm your shit,” Damien said flatly. “I’m not hurting him.”  
  
“I don’t care! You have no right-” he stopped with a psuedo-sharp look from Kyle.  
  
“Ken, _stop_ ,” the redhead said in a pleading tone. He couldn’t take this. He couldn’t take any more fighting against something that was completely inevitable. All it did was wear him out, all he could do was just accept whatever fate was handing him. And it was handing him a very clear option. Damien sighed tiredly, placing his hand on Kyle’s forehead and letting his eyes pulse a bit. Kyle took a long, deep breath of rejuvenation, his withdrawal receding from him in an instant, feeling his stomach full and his throat no longer parched. The mist cleared from his terrified mind and he blinked. He backed up a bit, looking at Damien confusedly.  
  
“You’ve been very well behaved, you’ve earned some temporary relief,” he shrugged as explanation.  
  
Kyle studied his face, feeling something _off_ about the demon in front of him. That strange worried look was back on his face, buried deep in the familiar red eyes. “Master, what’s wrong?” he whispered, bracing himself against a possible attack for speaking out of turn.  
  
Instead, he was met with a bit of a smirk. “You can read me well now, can’t you, my pet?” Kyle shrugged shyly, brushing hair out of his face. “Nothing wrong, just had to do a lot of thinking, that’s all,” the demon said. He shot glances at the two on their sides and frowned. “If I let you out of the hold, if you swear not to do anything foolish, nothing bad will happen,” he said plainly. “Note that if one of you tries to be heroic, Kyle suffers. Do you understand?” He simply couldn’t be bothered diverting attention to the two of them, not now. He needed to focus on his redhead.  
  
“Fine,” Stan grumbled, his chest percolating with rage.  
  
Damien looked over at the blonde expectantly, meeting a vicious snarling face. However, blue eyes settled on Kyle, who was watching him with a begging expression. Kenny sighed in aggravation. He couldn’t be the cause of Kyle getting hurt. Not again. He simmered down a bit and slumped under Damien’s power. “Fine,” he echoed dryly. They both yelped as the hold disappeared instantly, both of them crashing face-first on the floor.  
  
Kyle and Damien stared at each other and the demon quirked his brow, seeing the wheels turning in Kyle’s head. “What’s on your mind?”  
  
He licked over his lips, knowing full and well that punishment was definitely a possibility for what he knew, but he had to say it. He had to tell Damien to take him back to his prison, he couldn’t keep ruining lives like this. “Master...I know now...what b-benefits you get from me...y-you know,” he winced and gulped with a light dusting blush, keeping their eyes locked on each other’s. “I-I...I don’t want to hurt people,” he whispered. “Take me back.”  
  
Damien’s eyes widened in surprise. “Back? Back to Hell?” Kyle nodded and Damien watched him carefully, unbelieving of what had just come out of his pet’s mouth. Damien knew as well as anybody that Kyle _hated_ that prison of his, that being home had been a tidal wave of comfort on his brutalized body. Wanting to go back into the darkness was far past what Damien thought he would be after. Then again, he couldn’t say he’d be too surprised, just knowing how Kyle was.  
  
“KYLE WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Stan shouted, trying to keep himself a decent space back so as to not sock Damien in the jaw.  
  
“Ky, he’s tricking you!” Kenny gritted out, tears beading his eyes and fingers raking through his blonde hair wildly. “Don’t be stupid!”  
  
The two kneeling together ignored them, lost in their staring before Damien let out a long chuckle. “Your stories were certainly correct, McCormick,” he looked at him with a smirk. “He does like to help other people, doesn’t he?”  
  
“You leave him right here!” Kenny demanded, his face burning with pure fire, with the need to taste blood for Damien’s sins.  
  
“My pet,” he restarted, ignoring the blonde’s outburst. “They already belonged to Hell,” he shrugged. “No one you were with was any kind of saint, that’s for sure.” Stan’s face dropped a bit at that but he settled to pout in lieu of causing a ruckus or vomiting everywhere. “They won’t suffer more than a few weeks of being tired,” he continued. “Don’t worry yourself too much.”   
  
Kyle took a deep breath and rubbed his arm listlessly. “I still...don’t feel right, Master.”  
  
“And that’s what’s so wonderful about you,” he smirked, kissing him briefly. “So willing to be a sacrifice for the greater good. There’s a reason I kept you around, little bulldog.” Kyle just watched him, dumbfounded at his tone. This was different than usual. He wasn’t taunting him. He wasn’t putting him down. He was being so...honest with a sliver of _kindness_. It was terrifying in a way, making him wonder if he was trying to lower his guard, trying to make him so defenseless that he’d just wind up an even easier target than usual. Damien noticed his confusion and sighed, getting to his feet. He held a hand to Kyle who blinked before taking it, letting Damien help him onto his aching legs. “Come sit,” he directed, leading him over to his bed, Stan stepping out of their way. He and Kenny shared a bewildered look before each standing to a side of Kyle sitting on the bed as Damien stepped back from him. The demon looked at them and snorted, “You think you’re his royal guards?”  
  
“We’re more to him than _you’ll_ ever be, you shithead,” Stan hissed.  
  
“Hm,” he mused. “Except, you know, how I _own_ him and all.” They both sneered and Damien rolled his eyes, focusing on Kyle who was sitting attentively, waiting for him. “That’s what I need to discuss with you, Pup,” he said plainly before looking around his room. “I will preface this conversation by saying that any of your answers will not be punishable. Do you understand?”  
  
“Yes, Master,” he nodded in confusion.  
  
“Good,” he nodded back. “Tell me, do you enjoy being back on Earth?”  
  
He tongued over his lips nervously but murmured, “Yes, Master. I do.”  
  
“And why is that?”  
  
Kyle paused, shrugging shyly. “I...enjoy seeing my...friends and family,” he winced.  
  
“And less of me?” he questioned.  
  
Kyle’s eyes widened and he shook his head frantically, “No, Master, that’s not it at all!”  
  
Damien chuckled at his transparency a bit, a part of him elated at Kyle showing that tiny sliver of defiance once again, trying to think his way out of his situation. “You’re not a very good liar, Pup,” he raised his brow amusedly as Kyle seemed to shrink into himself a bit. Damien sighed, ruffling his hair. The last week he’d been struggling with his decision, watching Kyle as he remained chained. The whole thing was nothing but conflict, especially as he looked to see Kenny staring at him with a look that, were he himself mortal, would probably intimidate him. He recognized that look, it was the same he’d given his father when he’d been told that Kyle couldn’t remain in Hell. The look that screamed ‘he’s mine and you can’t take him from me’. Seeing it on Kenny’s face filled him with a thirsty rage, but he couldn’t exactly be surprised. It was hard not to feel that way for the redhead. He straightened up and stared at Kyle, putting his hands behind his back thoughtfully. “My pet, I expect this one to be completely honest, understand?” Kyle nodded. “Do you hate being aware of what has happened to you?”  
  
Kyle stared at him, completely lost as to one, how to answer it, and two, where the hell that kind of question came from. “I...” he looked down for a brief second before fear made him flash his eyes back to Damien’s. “Yes,” he whispered, nodding slowly. It was true. Living in a constant nightmare, knowing that one wrong move could send him straight back into chains, it was terrifying. His life had become a surreal night-terror, and there wasn’t anything he could possibly do about it.  
  
Damien frowned a bit, that certainly didn’t make the choice easier for him. But then again... He looked down thoughtfully. He always had a _third_ option. He raised his eyes back to meet Kyle’s waiting stare and smirked. “All right, my pet. I am going to give _you_ two choices. And it will decide just how much ownership you’re willing to give me.”  
  
The three across from him all looked at each other before turning back to the demon. “Which is the option for _none_?” Kenny scowled.  
  
He chuckled, “There is none. Either option, you will still belong to me, my Kyle.” The redhead nodded slowly, the back of his mind telling him that his instinct was always right, he knew it’d happen like this. “Your choices are as such:” he started. “Either you come back to Hell and my soul takes you over completely. You’ll become a lifeless, thoughtless doll just waiting for me to come and do with you as I please...” he watched Stan and Kenny begin shaking with rage and smirked at them compared to Kyle’s calm, but worried demeanor. “Or...I let you stay here on Earth, but you will remember every _bit_ of what I have done to you. And I will continue to see you, you will continue to be _mine_ and follow my orders to the letter. Punishments for disobeying me when giving you such a _kind_ offer will be tenfold what you experienced in your prison,” he raised his brow. “Which one would you prefer, little Pup?”  
  
Kyle stared at him, his heart sinking lightly. This was it. He was completely right in his deep-set fears. His two options both kept him the same: under Damien’s rule. He slunk down a tad, trying to work it out. Which would be better for himself? For his friends and family? Could _they_ handle watching Kyle being the slave that he was? Kenny and Stan couldn’t even handle him not having water, and Damien had done much _much_ worse to him, and he was promising to increase it. But being nothing but a doll, forgetting everyone and everything he ever loved...he didn’t want that. To spend eternity as nothing but Damien’s sex slave was what he fought so adamantly against for so long...to just let him do that to him would be nothing but shameful. Though the shame wouldn’t last long once he fell catatonic. On the other hand he’d _know_ what he was being used for if he stayed on Earth...He bit his lip, torn asunder at the prospective outcomes.  
  
“It’s a tough choice, isn’t it, Pup?” Damien broke through his thought process. “I myself didn’t know what to do for you, but I figure you should know better than myself...” he trailed off and took a deep breath. “I am...willing to make a compromise if you stay on Earth,” he muttered out, half unbelieving that he would do this to himself. But he wanted the preservation, he _yearned_ for Kyle to keep giving him that look, to shy in fear at his anger, to tell him that he belonged to himself. “Should you remain my compliant little dog, I will allow you to stay with McCormick and harvest _his_ soul to keep yourself seated where you are. Since he’ll just get it back, it’s not much of a loss,” he rolled his eyes listlessly.  
  
 Kyle’s eyes widened in surprise and terror all at once, “B-but I don’t wanna hurt-”  
  
“Ky,” Kenny stopped him, grabbing his hand. “Dude, if it keeps you on Earth, I will be your all-you-can-eat soul buffet, okay?”  
  
“You just want to fuck him,” Stan muttered under his breath. Kenny snarled and slapped him over the head.   
  
“Fuck off, Marsh, this isn’t the time for you to be Super Best Friend overprotective douche,” he spat before looking back at the shocked redhead, his glare dropping instantly into a desperate worry. “Kyle, I love you, okay? If that’s your option, and we get to keep you, _take it_.”  
  
Kyle looked back over at his master, who was glaring at Kenny’s hands but keeping himself at a distance. “I don’t like this,” Damien said lowly. “I don’t like the concept of McCormick having his dirty paws on you...but I’m willing to cut you this deal should you accept: McCormick’s soul will be harvested for three days,” he held up the number on his fingers. “During those three days, you will be spending every waking moment with _me_ , doing as I order and as _I_ please. The other four days, you will have essential free range,” he shrugged. “Eat as you wish or do whatever you want with...him,” he waved his hand towards the blonde in distaste.  
  
Kyle stared at him again, his hands still tight in Kenny’s grasp. “Master?” he asked timidly. “Why...why are you giving me that option?”  
  
Damien stared back, crossing his arms and shrugging dismissively, not quite knowing himself. “Because, good boys always get their rewards, don’t they?” he parried easily. Kyle nodded a bit and tongued over his lips.  
  
Could he _live_ with this? Knowing what he is? Walking the Earth permanently marked with scars that screamed to the entire world who he belonged to? He was no fool. The nightmares would never stop, the fear would _never_ dissipate. Eternity would be spent tip-toeing around, trying not to upset Damien for fear of repercussion. Was that any kind of life to live? He looked up to see Kenny staring at him, those icy eyes shining in desperation. He bit his lip. Leaving Kenny again, never seeing him or Stan or his family...that was a horrible thought to bear on its own. Even if he were to lose all his memories if he went back to his prison, his last thoughts would be nothing but regret, he knew that much about himself. He heaved a deep sigh, a lump rising in his throat. The choice was obvious.  
  
He lightly clasped his fingers back around Kenny’s, struggling to get to his feet and letting the blonde stabilize him. “Master...I want to stay,” he said quietly.  
  
Damien nodded. “I figured you would.” He shrugged listlessly, waving Kenny and Stan back and standing a few inches from Kyle, bending down to his eye level. “Just do remember one thing, little phoenix:” he said slowly. “I burned you down to ashes, and you may have rose once more...but I control whether or not you get to keep your feathers.” He cupped Kyle’s chin, feeling him gulp and smirking satisfactorily. “You have your wings, but you will never fly again, do you understand me?”  
  
Kyle’s stomach dropped a bit, his eyes glistening over but he nodded. “Yes,” he whispered brokenly. Damien chuckled, kissing his forehead.  
  
“Well, I suppose I’ll let you begin your new life then, my caged bird,” he cooed, stroking his thumb over Kyle’s cheek. He raised his other hand, tugging on his collar. “You’ll be keeping this on,” he said smoothly. “Because you’ll never be fully under me again, which was part of our deal in it coming off if you remember.” Kyle nodded, almost feeling it tightening to a noose around his throat, a spark of anger flashing through his eyes. Damien watched the gleam with vigor, knowing that once again, the fight was going to start. The demon couldn’t say he didn’t look forward to it. He leaned down, kissing his lips for a good length, flickering his eyes pointedly at the boiling blonde beside them. He pulled back and chuckled at Kyle’s reddened face before straightening up and matching up with Kenny’s height. “Take good care of my pet less I increase your deaths, McCormick,” he warned.  
  
“Better care than you ever took of him, I’m sure, Dickhead,” he glared.  
  
Damien smirked, “Ask him that question. See if he has the same opinion.” He turned from Kenny’s sneering face to look at the small redhead once more. “Behave, my pup. I’ll see you in a few days.”  
  
“Yes, Master,” he whispered. They all watched as Damien sank back through the floor in his inky portal, a hidden contented grin spread over his devious face. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted, having to share his prize. But it was good enough, enough to know that Kyle wasn’t going to be escaping him, to know that he still held the reins. Enough to know he’d get to wrestle with the bulldog sometime shortly once again.  
  
Kyle stared as the portal vanished, right in the spot where he’d first been whisked off to Hell in a paralyzed trance. His throbbing legs gave way, letting him fall into a heap on his knees, his eyes welling with tears. Once more, just like on that day, he lost.   
 “Kyle?” Kenny knelt down beside him with Stan and put his hand on his shoulder, both of their hearts sinking in the reality of the situation. “Are you okay?”  
  
“I don’t know,” he whispered blankly. It was true, he had no idea of how to feel. His entire life was still up to Damien’s games. Every bit of him belonged to the demon and he knew it. He’d have to live day in and day out, look in the mirror, see the red around his irises and face that reality. The rest of eternity, he’d have to live with these scars, knowing full and well he’d never walk well again. Three days a week would be spent bent over, letting Damien take him over as he wished, using him like his toy as he had for so long. A part of him rang with regret, wondering if maybe he made the wrong choice, if dooming himself to an onslaught of nothing but miserable days would have been much better spent as thoughtless droning and unknowing as Damien used his body to his liking.   
  
He felt Kenny’s hand grasping his own, their fingers intertwining and he wiped away his tears as best he could, looking at the blonde with the attempted reassuring smile, the light blue eyes that always told him ‘I’m here for you’. His heart settled slightly in relief. Things weren’t perfect. They would _never_ be perfect again. It was a harsh reality that he was just going to have to accept. He sniffled, turning and looking out the window at the muted sunlight streaming into the room, his reminder that he was still in a prison, but he couldn’t have much of a better one. His hand tightened around Kenny’s as they all sat in silence, letting the moment mull over them with hesitant acceptance. Kyle felt the collar rubbing his throat, over Damien’s fang marks as Kenny clutched his hand even tighter. Torn between the two faces of his reality, Kyle knew that things were only just beginning. Damien was going to lose the ‘kindness’ he’d shown and revert back to full-blown punishments. His own temper was beginning to fade back into his life, and he knew it wouldn’t be too long before he couldn’t control himself. He and his master were going to engage in yet another dance, this one jaunting in its tempo, completely out of step from what they’d previously participated in. Another waltz was just beginning, and the two of them were going to tumble through it together, once more fighting for the lead.  
  
Kyle’s eyes sunk a bit, sunlight gleaming through the exhausted colors tauntingly. He knew well enough, he’d learned by now that no matter how much he fought, Damien was going to win, he’d always control their dance. But damn it all if Kyle wasn’t ready to try. After all, he had an eternity to learn the moves, and Kyle was an awfully fast learner.   
  
His eyes drifted up to the sky, seeing a few sparse flittering snowflakes and feeling a small twinge in his heart. It could have been worse, he reminded himself. He had a God looking out for him all along, it just wasn’t the one he’d expected to whisk through and save him in a beam of glorious light.  
  
Through the darkness, he’d had his hopes, he’d had his chances, Damien swiping them all away like a child losing at his own game. Now it was time to start anew, to find himself balanced between the realms of Heaven and Hell and let fate take him along as all mortal souls did. He let out a small, indiscernible smirk on the corner of his lips, feeling the warmth of Kenny and Stan beside him, hearing Ike downstairs yelling to his mom that Kyle was out of his chains and to start making him food, realizing that he was where he belonged, regardless of who had ownership over him. Damien had given him new pieces in their playing field, finally giving Kyle _something_ to grasp onto.  
  
The board was finally reset, and Kyle was ready to play.  
  


* * *

  
  
**Day 641**   
  
Damien watched him with cautious eyes as Kyle eyed the dagger in his hand. “Do you understand the instructions, Pup?” He looked up, nodding wordlessly, still trying to figure out exactly it was he was going to be doing. The basics were there: cut that, say this, have sex with them...but for what purpose, the redhead couldn’t even begin to fathom. He flinched a bit as Damien pet his head, watching as Kyle slowly put the dagger back into the box and handed it back to Damien. “I’ll bring this to you tonight. You’re to keep it hidden. Do you understand?”  
 “Yes, Master,” he whispered in a daze, still reeling from the situation he was in. His body was still thrumming with adrenaline from Damien and his earlier activity, his heart pounding madly still from the rush of it all. Kyle wondered if he’d ever get to feel that kind of pleasure again.  
  
“So beautiful,” Damien murmured once more to him, stroking his cheek. “The idea of sharing you with others...it sickens me, my pup,” he sighed. “But I suppose if it’s for your benefit, I’ll make the exception.” Kyle raised his brows in confused surprise. _His_ benefit? The concept was nearly too farfetched for him to begin to understand. Damien doing something for his sake? “I’d hate to see you wither into nothingness, I can only hope you’ll rise once more,” the demon whispered, knowing well enough that Kyle would never remember this conversation. He was too far gone at this point. He’d remember the ritual and who Damien was, he’d made damn sure of that. But other than that, it’d be nothing but fuzz, just the way it should be.  
  
“Things are going to be different from here on out, my Kyle,” Damien said smoothly, still running his finger over the silky cheek, relishing in the soft skin beneath him, quivering at his touch. “You’ll be in the hands of those who aren’t me, but you have to remember...?” he hinted expectantly.  
  
“I belong to you, Master,” he said monotonously, eyes staring into Damien’s, devoid of anything Damien ever associated with the redhead in front of him.  
  
“Good boy,” he murmured. He picked up a different dagger from beside himself, holding it for Kyle’s view. “This is what I used to bind our souls,” he said softly, watching Kyle’s eyes listlessly follow the gleam of the blade, a hint of fear jolting through them. “Hold out your hand,” he ordered. Kyle blinked before doing so, his palm facing Damien as the demon grasped it, stroking over the word carved so beautifully into the flesh with loving care, his reminder. Kyle was his _eternally_ , regardless of whose hands he fell into on Earth. “Hard to believe, isn’t it, Pup?” he said almost to himself. “You came down here kicking and screaming...but look at you now,” he smirked. “So ready to hand yourself over to me, aren’t you?” Kyle nodded and Damien sighed a bit before huffing out a bit of a laugh. “So obedient,” he murmured in slight disappointment, taking his blade and slashing it over Kyle’s index finger, watching the boy wince and tremble, but hold perfectly still to let him continue whatever it was he wanted to do.  
  
Damien leaned down, lapping the poisonous blood from his finger, relishing in the mingled tastes of both himself and the redhead. It was delectable: A mix of purity with a touch of diabolic undertones; Everything about Kyle summed up so beautifully in their combined life force. “You’re still in there,” he said softly, locking eyes with him once more. “The real you is still in there somewhere. Maybe somehow you’ll find your way back out. Will you try?”  
  
“I will, Master,” he assured him, though he wasn’t quite sure of what he was asking him to do.  
  
Damien noticed the confusion but just pushed through it, “Are you ready, Pup?”  
  
Kyle nodded, his eyes glassy and filled with anxiety. “Where will...y-you be, Master?” he stammered out.  
 “I’ll be watching you,” he assured him. “Don’t worry, no harm will come to you...” he sighed again, taking his dagger and slashing his own finger, wiping it across Kyle’s forehead. “ _Viderit saeculum videre eum, nostra animarum vincto in aeternum. In perpetuum, ille sit meus...Et ego ero ei illius._ ” He stopped, watching Kyle’s body glowing under his whim and smiled softly. “Once again, Pup. Who do you belong to?” he asked, dropping his hand down and holding it out for Kyle.  
  
The boy gently grasped it back, Damien watching with a wide grin as a thin, brilliant ring of ruby encircled the green of his eyes, glowing in the darkness of the room they were in. With a soft whisper, the words rang true through both of their ears, the rest of the world cut off as they stared at each other in the stifling silence. It was their one truth with each other in their constant games, whether Kyle had always believed it or not. It was the one thing that spoke volumes above the rest; It forced Kyle back down into his place and rose Damien to the top of their scoreboard. It was a thrill to hear each time, and a slow chip away at Kyle’s soul. But between them, for the rest of eternity, it would remain, and it would reign over them both as they continued down the paths they’d set for themselves;  Damien standing tall and Kyle on his knees beside him as they waded through time together, side by side. “ _You, Master. You._ ”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Show them he is mine, our souls forever bound. He will always be mine...as I will always be his.”
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! I know Dyle has a really sparse fanbase so I really appreciate you taking the time and taking a look! This story literally only took me under two months to write because I was having so much fun with it. Thanks again and hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!


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